Le Spectacle des Merveilles
by GigiLuVe
Summary: Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.
1. Audition

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** Welcome one and all! I'm back! I haven't posted anything on here in a long time, but what better way to come back then with a Phantom of the Opera fanfic? Recently I went back and reread one of my Phantom of the Opera fanfictions and it got me in the mood to write another. I took a little inspiration from the Joel Schumacher film, but mostly I like to use the Gaston Leroux book version and the Andrew Lloyd Webber broadway version. I am typically not a full Erik/Christine shipper, but I tend to find that writing their romance is much more interesting. Yet, I'm not entirely sure yet if they will end up together in this story or not. I may favor my darling Raoul in this one.

I'm not entirely sure how I came up with this idea. I'm sure it has been done before. But, I was instantly interested in it. So this is at least my take on this idea. I appreciate comments and reviews, as they inform me of how I am doing. I also like some interaction with readers, like suggestions of where to go next and ideas about what is happening. So please enjoy!

 **Chapter 1 – Audition**

"This is our chance, Christine," Gustave Daaé told his daughter as they hurried through the dirt and mud toward the small tent that had been erected next to a booth sporting a sign that said 'Tickets.' The top of it had faded to a dark red, while the base wasn't much better with its multicolored stripes. "If we're hired, we'll have a roof over our heads, consistent meals, and some income. It's perfect for us."

"A roof of sorts," Christine muttered under her breath. But, she sighed and then said, "Let's hope that Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André think so, as well." Her heart pounded in her chest.

She knew how much this opportunity meant to her father, especially since they had been living day-to-day as mere street performers as of late. He had jumped at this chance to do what he loved most: playing the violin. Of course, it would be in the shadows, providing enthralling music to which the audience would escape, but that didn't matter. He looked forward to being able to release his creative genius and provide for his family at the same time.

"Carnivals have become popular entertainment," he continued, talking just as quickly as his feet moved. "Mark my words, my dear, if we land this, and we will, we'll be sitting pretty for a while, at least."

The carnival had arrived on the outskirts of Paris just a couple of weeks before. Gustave had seen it as some sort of sign or opportunity. He had acted at just the right moment. The carnival was on its final performance for the area then would board its personal train and depart.

Christine scurried to keep up with her father, quite uncomfortable in her environment. She had never attended a carnival before, since she had grown up with very limited means. Luckily, it was still fairly early, so there weren't too many people out and about. She did her best to keep her gaze focused on the ground ahead of her, though, because she was certain whatever she saw would shock and terrify her.

A well-dressed man with grey hair loitered outside of the large tent and waved at them as they approached.

"That's Monsieur André," Gustave whispered to her. "He's one of the managers of the show."

It was too late for Christine to respond, for they had closed the distance to the man. He seemed cheery enough, wearing a large grin and all.

"You made it!" he greeted. "Don't mind the racket. We have our final performance later today then we are heading out again immediately after."

"Can I just say again how grateful I am that you have given me, well us, a chance, Monsieur André?" Gustave gushed, shaking the man's hand enthusiastically.

"Yes, yes, of course." André pulled his hand away. He gestured for them to enter the tent. "Just this way. After you."

They ducked into the tent, passing through a single flap that was tethered open. It took a moment for their eyes to fully adjust to the torchlight inside. As the tent was merely a means to pass through into the carnival grounds, there wasn't anything to see. The torches had been set up in two straight lines, leading the way to the opening at the farther end. In the center, though, two chairs had been set up, one of which was already occupied.

André came from around them and lead them toward the chairs. "Firmin," he called as they neared. "Here's the man I told you about."

The man with the grey-streaked dark hair stood up and turned toward them. His nose was long and hooked at the end, and he stood a head taller than his partner. "So pleased to meet you," he greeted with an outstretched hand. "I can't wait to hear what you can do."

Gustave shook his hand with the same fervor. "It is such a pleasure." He stepped back and motioned toward Christine. "Gentlemen, this is my daughter, Christine."

She shook both managers' hand. "I'm so pleased to meet you," she said softly.

Both men grinned at her and responded in turn with pleasantries bordering on lechery.

André sat in the other chair. "It is fantastic to have you here, Monsieur Daaé," André said. "I had been pestering Firmin here for a while about hiring on a full time violinist. I think it will do wonders for our shows." He ushered to the empty space in front of them. "You may begin whenever you are ready, monsieur."

"Thank you." Gustave hastily drew out his violin and plucked at the strings as he moved into position.

Having ensured his violin was fully tuned before setting out that day, Gustave took one more deep breath before acquiescing.

Christine listened to him play the notes that he knew so well. It was a song that they often performed, as it always ended up being a crowd favorite. And, he could play the tune to perfection. A small smile upturned her lips as she watched him. His eyes closed as he allowed the music to take him away. She had always admired his passion. She always sought to perform with the same fervor.

"Pardon us, Monsieur Daaé," André interjected, causing the song to come to an abrupt stop. "I don't mean to offend, but there's no point in us wasting time. We've heard playing like this many times before. We were hoping for something a little different."

Gustave found his voice after having been taken aback by the interruption. "I can do whatever you request. My style is quite flexible that way."

"Well," Monsieur Firmin asked, notching a finger toward Christine, "does she do anything? Is she part of your act?"

Christine's eyes went wide, as if caught by surprise, which she very much was. She was so out of her element that she didn't know what to do. She glanced from Monsieur Firmin to her father, shaking her head vigorously in the negative.

"I-I'm just here to support my father," she told them dumbly.

"But such a pretty girl would certainly be an asset to any show," Monsieur André coaxed.

Gustave strode to his daughter and placed both hands upon her shoulders. With a big smile, he told, "She can sing, monsieurs. She can accompany me right now, if you'd like."

"Lovely!" André beamed. "We don't presently have a singer."

"Don't let La Carlotta hear you say that," Firmin whispered to his partner, and they both shared a laugh. After taking a breath, he continued, "If you wouldn't mind, mademoiselle, we would be delighted to hear you." He motioned for her to take front and center with her father.

Christine sighed. The last thing she had ever thought she would have been doing in this place was singing. Looking at her father and seeing the pleading in his eyes, she mustered up her courage and moved in front of the two men. Her hands shook, so she gripped the folds of her skirt to try to still them. She kept her face hard, determined, not betraying any of her nerves.

It was really just for the love of her father that she was able to perform. It was a song they had done many times before, so despite being a bundle of nervous tension, she was able to recite the lyrics with no issues. She never was able to get fully into the moment, and kept her eyes on the managers sitting in front of her.

Afterward, despite everything working against her, both men stood from their seats and clapped loudly, even issuing forth several cheers of "bravo" and "perfect." She somehow had managed to pull off a great show.

Finding some more words, Monsieur André praised, "That was pleasantly unexpected, mademoiselle. Really, the both of you two together were phenomenal."

Firmin, whose eyes had become disjointed, as if staring at something beyond the two of them, altered his gaze onto his partner. "Now, now," Firmin interjected, the level-headed one of the two. "Let us regard this professionally." He turned to Christine and her father, smiling warmly. "If you two wouldn't mind, we would like a moment to deliberate. You are welcome to poke your heads outside there and see what our show has to offer."

Christine looked to her father, who, after a pause, swiftly put his violin back into its case.

"Of course," Gustave said, moving toward the other opening with his violin case under his arm. "Take all of the time you need, gentlemen."

Christine followed her father to the opposite opening in the tent. Glancing over her shoulder, she spied the two managers walking toward the break in the two sections of the tent that had been tethered together to form one wall. It seemed curious to her, but otherwise she paid them no mind.

Stepping back outside, her eyes had to adjust. Once they did, though, she spied sights that she had never seen before. There was a larger tent just across the yard. Two small tents, almost like booths draped in canvas, were erected to the left of the main stage, staggered and with a small ticket booth in front of one. To the right of the large tent were makeshift stables with four snow white horses within. Railcars acted as barriers around the vicinity to keep unpaying guests out and to offer the impression of a sectioned off area for the show.

There were a few people wandering about the grounds, ensuring everything was prepared for the final performance. Christine took a few steps to the right, her gaze hooked on the horses. She could see them well from where she stood, and they were beautiful creatures. A man had his back to her and was tending to their needs. She watched him in his duties, tossing hay into each stall, and noted how the muscles in his back shifted with his movement. He turned to the side, as if being called by someone she couldn't see or hear. Her eyes traced the line of his jaw, and when he smiled at this unseen person, she felt her heart flutter, and the want to smile with him.

"Christine," Gustave called, jarring her from her interest.

She spun to look at her father, the young man lost to the present.

"Come along. They're ready for us," her father said.

Without another glance back toward the stables, Christine followed her father back into the tent. Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin were seated again and staring in their direction expectantly. She followed quickly behind her father, bowing her head.

Once they were in position, Firmin cleared his throat. "Monsieur Daaé, it is obvious that you have quite a talent. We were very moved and impressed with today's performance. As you are well aware, we are in need of a violinist, and you certainly fit the bill. However, we would like to make an offer beyond what initially called you here today."

Gustave glanced between both men. Excitement rose in him, which was apparent on his face. "Yes?"

Firmin looked briefly to André then continued. "We would like to inquire about your daughter joining our stage, as well."

"Christine?" Gustave smiled apologetically. "She was merely here for support. I know that you enjoyed her voice, but I'm not quite sure my daughter would be comfortable-"

"We wouldn't wish to force anyone into any sort of position that wouldn't be comfortable," André interrupted swiftly. "Please just know that she possesses a great gift that we wish to share with the world, that is all. And," he hesitated, "we are not entirely certain there would be a place for you here without her."

The words sank in, and Gustave's smile faded. He looked at his daughter. Christine's eyes were wide. She hated that these men were putting this pressure on her. Their words were empty and fake. It was what had given her caution from the beginning. But, knowing their fate rested on her shoulders now, she took a brave step forward.

"It would be an honor for me to perform in your shows, gentlemen," Christine insisted. "And, I know that my father's presence here will be a great asset, as well."

The two men smiled and stood.

"Wonderful!" André exclaimed. He shook Gustave's hand then Christine's. "You both are sure to find yourselves at home with our little family here."

"Please come back this afternoon for our final performance," Firmin invited. "We will be departing immediately afterward for our next destination, so either way you should be here no later than midnight."

"Of course," Gustave breathed, swept up in the moment.

"And, of course," André said in his natural showmanship tone, "welcome to Le Spectacle de Merveilles!"

* * *

Le Spectacle de Merveilles: The Show of Wonders


	2. Four White Horses

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** I probably should have mentioned this in the previous chapter, but I am no good at French. All of the French you see here is google translated. I will provide a translation of the phrases at the bottom, but I don't intend to use much. Also, I do not live in France, so I am not an expert at where everything is/how long it takes to get places/etc. Bear with me here! . I certainly try to be as on point as possible, but there is only so much I can do.

This chapter ended up being longer than I expected. It works to get Christine a little acclimated to the circus and to the people. Thank you so much for the interest so far. ^.^

 **Chapter 2 – Four White Horses**

The carnival had completely transformed. It was like stepping into two different worlds. By day, it appeared drab and depressing. But now, during the evening, it was alive with energy and excitement. For whatever reason, Christine felt underdressed and out of place in her simple periwinkle frock.

Monsieur André was seen within the ticket booth that stood at the head of the grounds. Gustave and Christine headed toward him with their bags under their arms. They didn't have much belongings, but it was a little sad to reflect that they could fit all they needed within two cases and a sack.

They arrived at the booth just as a man and a woman walked away sporting two fresh admittances into the carnival. André spied them before any greetings could be made. He came out from his area, beaming with the joy that only the spectacle could produce.

"Monsieur and mademoiselle Daaé! It is a pleasure to play host to you tonight!" He clapped Gustave on the shoulder, as the man's hands were all occupied. Then he gestured toward where the train cars were parked. "Please take your luggage toward the cars. One of the laborers will be there to show you your new quarters and assist you with your bags."

"Thank you again, monsieur," Gustave called as they turned in the direction André had gestured. "You won't regret placing your faith in us. I promise."

"Father," Christine said lightly, "I know we should be grateful for this opportunity that we've been given, but don't you think that perhaps you are a bit too eager? Those men may use your gratitude to take advantage of you."

"Christine, I've always taught you to appreciate what you are given," her father began. "This is no different. Our lives will change with this opportunity. We shouldn't pretend that it is less than what it is."

Christine sighed. It wouldn't be the first time her father was taken advantage of. It was part of the reason they had lived with so little. But, she loved his kind heart; and, she couldn't deny that at least they would be taken care of within this traveling circus.

They approached the darkened train cars. A man with a mess of straw-colored hair was leaning against the outside of one of the cars. When he saw them approach, he stood up straighter and dusted his pants of some unseen dirt.

"Well, hello there," he greeted. "You two must be the newest additions."

"And, you are?" Christine asked before she could stop herself, her tone much more formal.

He cleared his throat. "My name is Philippe. I tend to the animals and anything else that needs attention around here."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Philippe. My name is Gustave, and this is my daughter, Christine."

"I've finished straightening up one of the cars for you." He patted the one he had been leaning against. "This here will be your quarters. May I assist you with your items?"

"Thank you," Gustave said as he handed over one of the cases.

Philippe led the way on board the car. He took the luggage up one piece at a time then held out a hand to assist each passenger. Christine knew she could have performed much more gracefully. She nearly slipped, while finding her footing, and had to be dragged up onto the platform.

The car had an exterior railing along one side of it, just enough room where one person could squeeze along without fear of falling off. The rest of the platform was taken up by a large box with a single door. Philippe lit a gas lamp and turned it up to allow enough light in which to see by inside of the train car. It wasn't terribly impressive by any means. It was a little smaller than their previous apartment. One bed hung from one wall, and a second bed hung from the opposite long wall. Both of these were positioned at the back of the car. There was a small vanity and a lounge toward the front. Other than these pieces, though, the train car was empty. Just by eyeing the space, there would be room to store the cases beneath the bunks.

"It's not much to look at," Philippe was saying as he towed one of the cases toward the bunks in the back, "but you'll think of it as home soon enough."

"This is more than enough for us," Gustave responded. "Thank you."

"Your car will be between Monsieur Reyer's and one of the cars for the labor hands," Philippe explained. "Once everything is set up tonight, I will send someone along to show you both where everything and everyone is located." He grinned at this, which Christine found odd. "Right now it will just seem like a mess if I try to explain."

Gustave nodded. "Understandable."

"You've still got some time to enjoy the show tonight," Philippe said. "You can do so without charge, being part of it now and all. We will start tearing everything down and preparing to depart afterward. At that point, Monsieur Daaé, we may ask for your assistance. Everyone tends to lend a hand for tear down and set up."

"I would be most happy to assist in whatever needs to be done," Gustave beamed.

"That's the spirit!"

Gustave turned to Christine. "Dear, why don't you go enjoy yourself. I'd like to ask Monsieur Philippe here a few more questions, if I may."

"Of course," Philippe consented.

Christine looked at Philippe then back at her father. "Well, alright, if that's what you wish." She kissed him on the cheek then left the cabin.

Outside, she had to lower herself to the ground carefully. She was afraid of slipping and injuring herself, though the light from the interior allowed a bit to see by outside of the cabin. The curtains weren't thick enough to block out all of the light. With her feet safely on the ground, though, she headed back the way they had come, toward the beginning of the spectacle.

She ducked into the small tent where they had given their audition, filing in behind a small gaggle of people who were just arriving. Even the inside of the small entryway appeared changed. The torches were still alight, but they seemed magical when compared to their ordinariness earlier that day.

When she emerged on the other side of the tent this time, she was struck by the majesty of everything, so much so that she was halted in her tracks. She glanced about in wonder, mouth agape, at the flickering candlelight, the crowds of enthralled spectators, and the hugeness of the main tent.

Instead of following the group of people toward the main attraction, she edged along the left side. She wanted to take everything in, though there wasn't much to see out there. She stopped at the first tent she came to, which was being monitored by a second ticket booth. A large poster was set up next to it, featuring a woman named La Carlotta in an alluring pose.

"Interested to see what's inside, my pretty?" a voice called to her.

Christine turned and looked at the man behind the ticket booth. "What is this?" she asked.

"A private show," he explained, grinning and showing off his unclean teeth. "It requires an additional admission in order to keep the riffraff and underage out." He chuckled.

She understood clearly what type of private show occurred within this tent, and she had no interest to confirm it with her own eyes. She shook her head, lowered her eyes, and moved on. Luckily, the man had other takers awaiting their turn to peek inside the forbidden tent.

Christine opted for the tent next to it, which appeared to hold significantly less interest in the male spectators. A small sign next to a flickering candelabra read 'Fortune Teller' with a monetary amount. She ducked inside quietly. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but then she noted the table with a colorful cloth thrown over it and a woman dressed all in black seated at it.

"Good evening," the woman greeted. "Are you here to test the boundaries of this plane and dive into the unknown?"

Christine couldn't help smiling at the rehearsed script. Though the woman made it sound so natural and mysterious, Christine knew how it all worked now.

"I apologize," Christine said. "I'm actually a new addition to this little show. I was just wandering about, and I didn't mean to disturb you."

The woman smiled. "Yes, of course. We were told that there would be two new additions to our family."

"That's my father and me," Christine confirmed.

The woman gestured to the empty chair opposite her. "Please, have a seat."

Christine obeyed.

"This is quite lovely," she said, glancing about.

"It works for what it was intended." The woman shrugged. "I am referred to as Madame Giry, for this," she motioned to the set up around her, "and merely out of respect, I suppose, outside of the show."

"Madame Giry," Christine tried out, "it is a pleasure to meet you. I am Christine. My father is Gustave. He is to be the new violin player."

"He was much needed, I assure you," Madame Giry replied. "He will set the mood for a number of our shows, my daughter's included."

"Your daughter?" Christine was surprised and sought to clarify.

Madame Giry nodded. "She is a great performer. She does the acrobats on the horses and assists Nadir in his tricks."

"That would certainly be amazing to see," Christine exclaimed. "She must be awfully skilled."

"And what is your skill?" Madame Giry asked, turning the conversation.

Christine shook her head. "What do you mean?"

Madame Giry laughed, but stifled it before it got out of control. "Monsieurs André and Firmin don't take people on who cannot contribute in one way or another."

Christine nodded somewhat absently. "Yes, I believe that. I suppose I sing then."

Madame Giry rested back in her seat, staring at Christine with an expression that couldn't quite be placed. "Interesting. There will certainly be a couple people curious in your gift then."

"What do you mean?"

But before Madame Giry could explain her cryptic words, a mother grasping her child's hand appeared in the tent opening, looking for a reading. Christine stood and took her leave, not wanting to interfere in business. As she moved along, past a tent advertising a strongman and another for an illusion and magic act that was currently closed, to the largest tent of all, she was left wondering what Madame Giry could have meant by her final words.

Christine didn't venture all of the way into the tent. Instead, she took a few steps inside, enough to come up next to some make-shift stands that had been erected. Most of the seats were filled by an entranced audience. All eyes were turned on the tan-skinned magician and petite young assistant in the middle of the floor.

Christine watched the tricks that awed the audience, but mainly she was interested in the female assistant, who she knew now to be the daughter of Madame Giry. She was dressed in a pink costume that revealed her legs and hung low in the front. The sparkles embellishing it caught the candlelight and shimmered magnificently. Her blonde curls bounced with every movement she made. Beneath all of the paint on her face, it was clear that she possessed an attractive look.

Seeing the girl's joy and energy, Christine couldn't help thinking that they might actually become good friends. But, she would have to wait her turn to meet the younger girl. For now, she smiled with the thought, and turned and left the tent.

Bypassing the remainder of the small tent acts, the last place she ventured to was where she had really been interested in going. The stables were located next to the large tent. The four white horses were still housed within, though each was sporting a bridle with a decorative flourish of feathers on the top. She squeezed into the first stall, between the horse and the wooden boards keeping the stable standing.

"You must be the loveliest creature I've ever seen," Christine cooed, petting the horse gently on the neck.

The horse lifted its head and peered back at her. Finding no threat, though, it turned back to the pile of hay.

Christine laughed. "You must get told that all the time. Don't tell me that I've just inflated your ego."

"It's Bells over there that you have to worry about," a voice said, startling her. "Her ego, I mean. She will be pretty stubborn unless you compliment her first."

Christine glanced around, somewhat frantically. She had thought that she had been all alone with the horses, but it seemed that someone had eavesdropped. Finally, she spotted the figure loitering near the horses' heads.

She hesitated a moment, not sure how to proceed, then said, "And who is the most playful and outgoing?"

"Millie. She's on the other end."

Christine continued to pet the horse in front of her, a smile on her face. "Then who is this?"

"That's Agatha. She is a little shy, but the sweetest of the four. Keep petting her like that and she'll be your friend forever."

The figure walked closer to her, and she was finally able to see that it was the man she had witnessed tending to the animals earlier in the day. Immediately a blush warmed her cheeks. Her smile faded, and she sobered instantly. She became self-conscious and awkward.

She took a step back, her hand falling to her side. "I apologize. I shouldn't be here. The girls look like they are preparing for a show anyway, so I will leave them to it."

"You're right," the man said rather bluntly. It took her off guard, causing her to stop and stare at him. "They are in the process of getting ready for a show, but you can stay if you'd like."

Her words caught in her throat. She wasn't entirely sure how to respond, but before she could even try, a coarse brush was forced into her hand.

"You can brush her, if you'd like," he suggested, and almost automatically, she started to. "Are you visiting with your husband or a male escort of some kind?"

Christine scoffed before she could stop herself. "That is awfully forward of you to go right into my personal life. I don't even know your name, let alone-"

"Raoul," he interrupted. "My name is Raoul."

Christine smiled, staring at him. "Raoul," she tried aloud.

"And, you are?" he asked softy.

Christine looked away with a sly smile on her lips and a blush on her cheeks. "You seem to know females so well, Monsieur Raoul. I am surprised I have to tell you anything."

"I know my horses," Raoul clarified. "The fairer gender I actually know quite little about. But, you certainly make the mystery attractive."

"And you don't know how to be subtle, do you?"

Raoul shrugged. "It wasn't something I was ever taught, I suppose."

"Well," Christine said, setting the brush on one of the wooden boards making up the stall, "you certainly don't lack in confidence."

"My brother's influence, I assure you."

She laughed, knowing something he didn't and wanting to play on that. "Be confident that we shall meet again then, Raoul, and perhaps it might even come true." She backed out of the stall and began to walk slowly away, a small, pleased smile on her lips.

"For a chance to meet you again, mademoiselle, I will show such optimism the world has never seen," Raoul called after her. "Fate will bring us together again. Just you wait."


	3. The Secret

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** Jumping just a little ahead because, let's be honest, nobody wants to hear about the tear down of tents and whatnot. Not to mention, there isn't anything interesting to be said during that process.

I realized that I write Meg in a very cutesy/little girl manner. It is no different here, I assure you! In fact, it is probably worse. I either imagine her this way or else rather standoffish or mean to Christine. I hope you enjoy the way I portray her in this. If it is a bit too much, I am willing to take that into consideration.

 **Chapter 3 – The Secret**

The train swayed from side to side—heavily, at first, then not as noticeable once they were underway. They had been on the move for closing in on an hour now. It had taken about two hours to fully tear down the carnival and pack it away into the train cars. By disassembling the smaller constructs while the final show was being put on in the large tent, the crew managed to save time when the carnival finally came to a close.

Christine was exhausted. She never stayed awake so late before. But, she was still arranging the car to make it warmer for her father and her to call home. There wasn't much to do, as the space was small, but she had currently occupied herself with attempting to hang up her frocks and skirts on a pipe that ran through the cabin.

Gustave sat on the lounge at the front of the car, tuning his instrument, and resting after the laborious task he had been involved in.

Even just having her father in her presence was comforting enough for Christine. She began to hum absently to pass the time. She didn't realize she was doing so until her father plucked the strings on his violin in tune to her song. She glanced over her shoulder at him and smiled. With his encouragement, she opened her mouth and sang out.

They often found themselves involved in an impromptu recital when going about their chores, so it felt very natural, comforting. Throughout the whole transition of joining this production, Christine had felt uneasy. The familiar act of her father and her joining together in a simple song, though, helped to ease her worries.

Christine abandoned her clothing and walked over to her father. After the song ended, Gustave stood, setting his violin on the lounge, and hugged his daughter.

"I know this is difficult, Christine," Gustave cooed, "but continue to trust in me, if you can."

After a brief hesitation, she nodded.

It was then that she believed she heard some footsteps retreating quickly just outside of their cabin. But, being in a new location with new sounds and new smells, she couldn't be certain if she had even heard anything at all. Even so, she went to one of the small windows overlooking the walkway on the train and pulled aside the curtain to peer out. However, she was met with darkness and her own reflection, cast by the light alive in the train car.

There was a knock upon the door, which startled her. She spun around, but her father made it to the door before she could even take a step.

Standing on the other side of the door was the young blonde girl who Christine had observed and Madame Giry. Meg appeared quite different. Without the massive amount of paint on her face, her youth really came through. She was much more covered up in a powder blue dress that brought out her eyes. Madame Giry looked quite the same. So much in fact that Christine couldn't be positive that she had even changed her attire at all.

"We apologize about calling so late," Madame Giry announced. "But, we saw a light on and thought it a better time than any to properly introduce ourselves. I am Madame Giry and this is my daughter Meg."

"Please, do come in," Gustave said, standing aside so that they might step inside.

Meg led the way with encouragement from her mother. She went straight up to Christine and took both of her hands. She had a large grin on her face. "Oh, Christine, it is such a relief to have another young woman here," she enthused in somewhat of a hushed tone.

"You must forgive us," Madame Giry said to Gustave. "I had the pleasure of meeting your daughter earlier this evening, and she introduced both of you to me. I told her of my Meg, and thought it would be nice for both of the girls to meet."

Gustave nodded. "A very insightful thought, Madame Giry. Shall we leave them to get acquainted?"

Madame Giry smiled. "What a lovely idea, Monsieur Daaé."

He held the door open for her to exit before him then closed the door after, leaving Meg and Christine alone in the train car.

Christine swept up her father's violin then motioned to the lounge. "Please have a seat."

While Meg situated herself, Christine lovingly put away the instrument. She ran her finger over the old wood before closing the lid of the case. She slid it safely into a crevice where it wouldn't be jostled by the train's motion.

"On our way over-my mother's and mine-we caught the end of such lovely singing," Meg was saying. "Was that you?"

Christine turned toward her, a blush creeping to her cheeks. "You heard that?"

"I know. My mother told me not to mention it, as it may embarrass you." Meg's fingers were fumbling with a fold in her skirt. "But, these train cars are hardly sound proof. And, once you get used to all of the sounds around here, you'll be able to easily distinguish one from another."

Christine sat delicately next to Meg. "It will certainly take me a while to get used to living on this train. All of these sounds are new to me. I don't know how I am going to sleep tonight, despite the exhaustion I am feeling. In fact," she laughed a little, "just before you arrived, I could have sworn I heard a pair of footsteps retreating down the walkway. But, it is such a late hour that anything of the sort would be completely unheard of. Well, except that the two of you are still awake."

She stared at Meg, and the small smile she had adorned slowly faded. Meg's countenance had changed drastically. From an enthusiastic, joyful one before, it was now nerve-wracked and even fearful. Meg stared down at her lap, unable to meet Christine's eyes. Her finger's played at that fold more frantically than before. Christine reached out and placed a hand on the other young woman's in an attempt to pacify them.

"Meg," she said quietly, "is everything all right?"

Meg's hands stopped twitching. Her eyes fluttered upward, but she was only able to briefly glance at Christine. A forced smile upturned her lips. "O-Of course," she replied, unconvincingly. "You must have just been hearing things. First night on a train does that."

Christine nodded, and silence passed through. She couldn't stand it after such an odd reaction. Finally, she said, "I saw you earlier, Meg. You were assisting in some sort of magic show. You looked quite beautiful, really."

As if pulled abruptly from a reverie, as if a switch had been sprung, Meg looked up with a smile on her face and a blush in her cheek. "I appreciate such words, but those costumes are absolutely ridiculous." She laughed, which was infectious, and caused Christine to do so as well. "Truly, those are all part of the spectacle. They dress me up like I am a doll, and I am to parade around and draw the attention away from the tricks."

"I am certain you provide the ample distraction as necessary," Christine told her with favor.

"What is it that you are to do then?" Meg asked, drawing the attention off of her.

"You must have seen my father's violin," Christine said.

Meg nodded. "Yes, of course! Oh, he will do wonderfully. We sorely need a musical backdrop. And you are to sing along with the music! Oh, it will be spectacular!"

Christine was pleased. This was exactly what she had imagined. She was hopeful she would make fast friends with Meg—the other young woman's being was so bright and cheery that it seemed impossible to be anything but.

"I do hope that everyone here is as nice as you," Christine mused aloud.

"There are a couple of people you have to be careful of, but I will take you around to everyone once we reach our destination," Meg told her. "May I show you off, Christine? Oh, please say yes."

Christine laughed. "Well, I am afraid I would disappoint you. I think you are expecting some sort of spectacle out of me, but unfortunately I do not have much in the way of fanciful items. I have but a couple of frocks and one or two skirts, and no jewelry to speak of. I would hate to embarrass you."

Meg giggled, which threw Christine off. She certainly wasn't expecting that reaction. "I believe you make this little setup of ours out to be much more than it is. Your outfit is beautiful, Christine, and anything you have that is comparable will do just fine." Meg glanced past Christine to wear some of the items of clothing had been hung up near the cots. "Are those yours over there?"

But, before Christine could answer, Meg jumped up and scurried over to the clothing. She sifted through the meager collection with much interest. Christine joined her, but stood back more ashamed than anything. She appreciated Meg's enthusiasm, but knew that it truly was quite underwhelming.

"You must wear this, Christine!" Meg shouted. She held out a forest green skirt and a white blouse, which was usually paired with the other skirt, as well. "I bet you look a vision in this."

Christine shrugged her shoulders. She had worn every style of her wardrobe multiple times that she was left unconvinced.

"We must also get you a decorative changing screen," Meg was saying. "My mother and I have one. We put it right back here. You'll have just enough space to offer some privacy, so that neither one of you has to leave the car for the other to dress."

"That sounds lovely," Christine agreed. "But, I don't know where to even find one, let alone the funds to purchase it."

Meg giggled again, the same laugh she used when apparently someone said something absurd and ignorant. "You don't need to buy one. I'll have Raoul make you one."

"Raoul?"

"Yes, he and his brother are labor hands," Meg explained. "But, Raoul is quite good with his hands. He knows how to craft things, and he draws the loveliest pictures. He looks after my horses, you know."

Recognition washed over Christine. A small smile and accompanying blush came to life on her face. "Oh, Raoul. I believe we met already."

"Really? What do you think of him? Did he happen to mention Philippe, his brother?"

Christine turned on her heel and meandered casually back toward the lounge. "He mentioned a brother, but I didn't know it was Philippe. Philippe was the one that showed my father and I our accommodations. He seems like a very helpful and capable young man."

"He is the most considerate person you'll ever meet." Meg scurried to her side. "Oh, Christine, may I impart a secret to you?"

"A secret?" Christine nearly scoffed, but saw how serious Meg was. She swallowed back the humor she found in the whirlwind that was Meg.

Meg took Christine's hands again. "From the very beginning, I felt a strong bond between us. I knew that we would be instant friends, and I hope I am not too eager in saying that it is turning out just as I expected. I have been carrying this burden around for a while now, and I am afraid that if I don't tell someone soon, it will burst forth at the most inopportune moment. Christine, I believe you are the only one I can say it to."

Christine couldn't argue with the young woman's fervor. She believed she had never heard such an impassioned speech before that she couldn't bring herself to remind Meg that the 'beginning' she referred to had been less than an hour ago. So, instead of dampening Meg's spirits, Christine nodded and smiled in a fashion that meant for Meg to continue.

Meg glanced about as if there were some unseen listeners that were unwanted. But, relieved that this was not the case, she continued. She leaned in close in order to whisper. "My mother and I have been employed here ever since I was _un enfant_ , and it was a couple of years ago that Philippe and Raoul were brought in. At first I thought nothing of either of them, since I was so used to seeing people coming and going. But, I was so wrong, Christine. Mere acquaintance grew into friendship. And, friendship grew into…" She trailed off, as if finding her words. "What I am trying to say is that I have entered into a secret bond of marriage that not even my mother is aware of."

Christine stood up out of shock. Not only was the secret of massive proportion, which she hadn't expected at all, but it also involved a man that she had found quite pleasing, to say the least. At least, it potentially involved him. She wasn't quite certain which of the brothers Meg was referring to, nor could she ask such an intimate question. Her heart pounded in her chest. But, noticing Meg's crestfallen expression, Christine immediately attempted to subdue hers, and approach with an open mind.

"I-I apologize, Meg," she began. "I didn't realize your secret was so…serious. Does anybody else know about this?"

Meg shook her head, her curls bouncing.

"Why haven't you confided in your mother?"

"She does not approve. She still believes a respectable gentleman will discover me and whisk me away from this place."

"It seems to me that your mother truly loves you. And, if she does, she will accept your decision. You should tell her, Meg. She would prefer that, I know."

Meg stood slowly. "I know you are right, Christine. And thank you for listening."

Christine smiled. "Of course. You're secret is safe with me."

"My!" Meg exclaimed suddenly. "It is quite late! I am afraid I've kept you longer than I'm certain you would have preferred." She stood and moved to the door.

Christine followed close behind, her smile having faded. She had counselled Meg so selflessly, but now her mind couldn't stray away from the possibility that Meg was secretly wed to Raoul. She bit her lower lip, something she tended to do when involved in distressing thoughts.

"There shall be a morning meal once we arrive at our destination tomorrow," Meg was saying. "Once everyone has partaken of that then the setup will begin. I shall come fetch you, Christine, so you don't wander out by yourself. Wait here for me." As she spun back around to face Christine, a large grin was plastered on her face.

Christine nodded, trying to disguise her distress. "Thank you for your consideration, Meg. It really means a lot to me to have someone I can already call a friend."

Meg pressed her hand. "I should be thanking you. Your presence here really means a lot. Please let me know if you need anything at all."

"Depending on how tonight goes, I may have to ask you for some more advice regarding any ghost noises that might keep me awake," Christine tried to jest, more for herself than for anything else.

Meg's smile instantly disappeared. She glanced about, as if checking on any prying ears and eyes. She leaned in, as if giving Christine a friendly hug, but loitered in the embrace with her mouth near the other girl's ear.

Meg whispered, "Do try to sleep peacefully tonight, dearest Christine. You may be disturbed by some unknown sounds, but try not to fret. If you ignore them, they will pass." She tried to give a reassuring smile then disappeared before Christine could think of a response.

The mystery of Meg's last words were enough to draw Christine's mind away from the secret she was entrusted with. She reflected on the entirety of her first interaction with the little creature while she dressed for sleep. She had to make sure that she had changed before her father returned. She was glad that it had taken very little effort to form a friendship with Meg. The girl had seemed more eager than Christine herself.

She was still dismayed at the thought of Raoul possibly being secretly engaged to Meg. The more she thought it over, the more she was convinced it was him. Raoul, after all, was the self-professed intellect when it came to the female sex. Or, at least, the set of female horses. This memory made Christine smile, much against her will.

Gustave entered the car at this moment.

"You and Meg must have had a nice talk to leave you smiling like that," he commented.

Christine forced the smile off of her face just for that comment. She crawled into bed, saying, "What about you and Madame Giry? She seems a very respectable woman."

"She is certainly a type that I haven't interacted with in a long time," Gustave admitted. "But, I would prefer to hear about your evening."

Christine pulled the quilt up to her chin. Her heart still felt heavy with sadness and anxiety. She didn't want her father to know how she was feeling, as it would worry him.

"There's really nothing to tell," she stated simply, rolling over. "You'd be bored by anything I said, anyway. It was just some girl things that wouldn't interest you."

She heard him chuckle. The light was turned down in the next instant. Christine's eyelids felt heavy. They drooped dangerously, and her ears became filled with the soft chugging of the train.

"Oh," she stated suddenly, turned her head to her shoulder so she could be heard. She felt dazed and half-asleep. "Meg did warn me that the first night may be a little rough. There will be noises all around. But, she gave me a bit of advice."

"What was that?"

"She said to ignore them and they will pass." Christine settled down after that, her final thoughts on the possible noises she might hear and how exactly they might pass so easily.

* * *

Un Enfant: A Child


	4. Falling Away

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** So here is the part that everyone's been waiting for! Well, sorta. Read to find out, is all I have to say. This seems more a filler chapter, but I rather like it. I like the metaphor of it all, as well as the general idea of it all. I think it was necessary.

I only read this over once, so I apologize about any weirdness. It got oddly busy this last week.

I wanted to thank everyone for the interest so far. I really appreciate the reviews and whatnot. Thank you so much! :D

 **Chapter 4 – Falling Away**

 _The familiar lullaby played over the scene like some sort of god. Ever-present, with a mysterious air, it set the tone for the entire sequence. Though there was a conscious awareness of its present, there was very little attention paid to the song, as if it was an after-thought or even an annoying fly buzzing around in the background that just wouldn't stop._

 _The world spun until everything blurred together. One color mixing with the next. One object blending into another. It was impossible to decipher one thing from the next. Then, Christine stopped._

 _She fell backwards giggling, holding her stomach and breathing heavily._

" _Christine! Christine, come take a look!"_

 _The voice echoed, unlike she remembered it, but it was still that of her father._

 _Christine rolled over and stood up. She ran over to where her father was working. Her hair had come loose from the bow that had contained it, and her dress was wrinkled. But, like a young girl of six, these things didn't matter to her._

" _What are you doing, papa?" Christine asked. She leaned over to watch his hands at work._

 _He was attaching torn up pieces of old paper to a wooden skeleton of wing. It was nearly complete, with just a few more empty areas to cover up. He had used some old white paint to make all of the pieces look uniform, and together they all appeared like feathers._

" _There. Finished!"_

 _He held up his creation: two identical wings made of wood and old paper. Christine giggled, recognizing what her father had made._

" _They're wings!" she announced._

" _Exactly, mon amour." Her father brushed her cheek. He slid his chair back, standing up and dangling his creation in front of her. "And, they aren't just any typical wings. They're angel wings."_

" _For the angel of music," she gasped._

" _Yes," her father whispered. He knelt down. "Come here, Christine."_

 _She walked up to her father. He tied the wings over her shoulders and under her arms, securing them so that they rested high on her back._

" _These are for you to wear," he told her as he worked. "The next time we go out to perform, the angel of music will see them and he will come to you, and he will teach you the gift of song."_

" _And I shall be a great singer!" Christine said and giggled._

" _You are already a great singer," her father purred. "But, you shall become the greatest the world has ever seen." He stood up, taking her little hand in his. "Twirl for me, mon amour. Let me see you fly."_

 _Christine giggled again and spun in place, using her father's hand as the support. She spun and she spun and she spun._

 _Suddenly, though, a large tremor shook their entire apartment, causing her to stop. She looked around in concern, her hands flying out to her sides to steady herself._

" _Papa, what was that?" she asked, but when she turned, her father was no longer there. This made her panic even more. She ran from one end of the apartment to the other in search of him. "Papa!"_

 _Another tremor, but this time the world around her began to crumble._

 _The world broke apart like pieces of a puzzle, falling down around her with each tremor into a space as black as night. The impending nothingness was coming for her. She was in a place unknown, now. Uncertainty was everywhere. Her heart had never raced before as it was doing so now. One by one the pieces fell, until she was standing on the smallest ledge. But even that was about to fall._

 _She dared to peer over, into the black void beneath her. She had nothing to hold onto. There was nothing to support her. Very soon she would find herself floating in the emptiness. No, not floating. Falling. Forever falling. And there would nothing to stop her. Nothing to catch her._

Christine's eyes popped open, and she found herself staring at a ceiling awash in darkness, all except for a sliver of light that seemed to be seeping in from outside. She wasn't sure what it was that awoke her—if it was the dream or something else. She sat up, feeling the train still swaying beneath her. She was recalled to the present.

She could remember her dream very distinctly. She remembered the fear and loneliness she had felt in the dream. But, she didn't know what it all had meant. It was much too vivid to not have some sort of place in her waking life. The song she hadn't heard in a long time. Her mother used to hum it to her when she was very young. Christine didn't remember her, but she remembered the song.

She swung her legs over the side of her cot. The floor was cold and shocking. She found some slippers and pulled them over her feet. She found the only cloak she owned and wrapped it tightly around her, to stave off the chill that hung in the air. She moved carefully to one of the windows and peeked out. The light on the horizon was the first thing she saw. It was barely there, but it meant that morning was approaching quickly. She realized that she must not have gotten much sleep, and she even felt a little sluggish, her head a little heavy. But, she didn't believe that she could even will herself back into unconsciousness.

She located a candlestick and some matches in the drawer of the small table beneath the lamp that hung from the ceiling. She didn't want to deprive her father of the lamp should he awaken before she returned. But, she had to stretch her legs, and she wasn't going to find the satisfaction of that by staying put.

Having placed a candlestick and the matches in the inside pocket of her cloak, Christine exited the train car. She was almost immediately blown off balance by the force of the wind and the swaying of the train combined, having caught her off guard, but she held very tightly onto the car. Falling was exactly what she was afraid of.

Instead of attempting to traverse the plank in front of her to move to the car in front, she turned the corner of her own and proceeded down the small walkway. The steadily rising sun provided a grey light in which to see by outside. It was enough to ease Christine's concern regarding watching her footing.

She paused when she reached the back of the train car. To see the land disappearing behind her was definitely a new experience. She found a sort of relief in it—a calming effect. It made her want to see more, and more clearly. Her heart pounded in exhilaration. Her feet moved faster, one in front of the other.

At the plank that was laid between the cars, she paused again. Her gaze was fixated on the ground below. One misstep would cause her to meet that ground and the wheels beneath the train. She would hardly even feel anything before she was taken from the world. She would find death before she realized what had happened.

Her breath caught in her chest. Then it was one step on the plank, a sort of hopping motion, and she found herself on the other side. She had flattened herself against the train car directly behind the one designated for her and her father in order to catch her breath and build up her nerve again. She could hardly believe she was actually doing this. But, the wind in her hair, the deafening noise in her ears, the butterflies going wild in her stomach, caused all thought to be lost and any inhibition to be abandoned.

She sidled around this car, feeling her confidence growing. Even when a slight bump made her fall back into the wooden frame, there was only a small bit of panic hit her before she was grinning widely. She crossed to the next car much quicker than her previous attempt. It was either as if she wasn't afraid anymore or as if she didn't care. Her veins were on fire, and that fire fueled her forward.

She jumped to the next car then the next. Three cars away from her own found her in a very different mood than from when she had initially exited her train car. Without time to think about anything in depth, she was moving in an almost mechanical manner.

There was no exterior walkway for this car. She had to pass inside. It was easy to unlatch the door from the outside, but it was heavy. Once inside, it took all of her strength to pull it shut again. Once she closed it, her vision went dark. Despite some light creeping in, her eyes refused to adjust. She fumbled with the candle and matches, but managed to light the wick and create light in the dense darkness of the car.

When she looked up with the aid of the candlelight, she found herself inside of the car that housed the horses. All four animals were staring at the newcomer, and she stared right back. Christine laughed, a little in relief, and walked slowly up to the first horse. They were in a row with their feed, water, and other necessities stored to either side of the first and fourth horse and in the empty space in front of them.

The horse nickered nervously at the approach of the fire, but Christine pet her comfortingly. "I apologize. I won't stay long," she whispered soothingly. "I didn't know you would be here. I've met your sisters, but I am afraid I don't know who you are. We'll have to get better acquainted once we reach our destination."

She smiled once more at the horse then proceeded on her way.

The opposite door was just as heavy. But, having blown out the candle and placed it back in the interior pocket, she managed to get it open and to close it behind her. Both doors slid and, while the first door was tethered on the outside, the second door was tether on the inside. It seemed rather odd to Christine, as there were still two cars in the procession, and having the tether on the inside made it impossible to come up from the last two cars. It made it dangerous to proceed further, should the door be sealed without knowledge that anyone lay beyond in the last two cars.

The train car following that with the horses was set up the same way. This one, however, housed all of the sets, tents, and props. Everything appeared to be secured safely, though, with ropes and in designated bins and hooks. Christine managed to traverse this one with little issue, as well, other than the opening and closing of the heavy doors.

Her heart pounded when she set foot on the final car. After this, there was nowhere to go. This final train car was unique in its design. There was a single door much like the one on her personal car leading inside. But, instead of there being an exterior walkway as on hers, this one extended to the edges, much like the prop car and the animal car.

Christine tried the handle on the door, but found that it was locked. She breathed an aggravated sigh, upset that her journey should end there. She glanced back up the train. The door to the prop car bounced, threatening to open, but she had tried to prevent it from possibly doing this. She didn't want to turn back. Not this close to the end. She looked back down at the door handle. One last time she tried it. She didn't expect a different response, despite how much she willed it. But, she found one.

This time, the door clicked and creaked inward, allowing her to pass.

Christine hesitated a moment before stepping inside. It was dark, but an oil lamp provided a gentle glow in the middle of the car. She walked inside and closed the door softly behind her. She glanced about at what the car held, curious and somewhat cautious. She spied some dried out roses tied into a bouquet. A dusty floor-length mirror with a crack stemming close to the top. A musty cot with rumpled sheets and a quilt. Several garments hanging from some pegs. Heavy curtains blocked out the sunlight coming to life outside. But, there was a door at the opposite end of the car.

Christine stepped carefully toward that door. This car felt different than the others. She had a strong sense that she shouldn't be there—that she was treading on sacred ground. She kept her gaze fixated on the opposite door, until she managed to reach it and throw it open.

She stepped out on a small platform encased by a railing. She leaned against it, sucking in the fresh air and basking in the emerging sunlight that fell across it. But, what she relished in the most was seeing the world fall away behind the train like it did.

All of the stress and anxiety that had been plaguing her seemed to disappear with the rest of the world in the wake of the train. She felt like they were heading toward a new life and everything they thought they had known was being left behind. Perhaps her father had been right. Perhaps something better was awaiting them.

"One day I'll fly away," Christine whispered, reflecting, her gaze fixated on their progress.

"I shouldn't lean against that railing, mademoiselle, if I were you."

The voice caused Christine to physically start. She spun around. The door leading into the train car was wide open, but all she could see was darkness. This unsettled her more than the interruption. She pushed back against the bar even more, as if attempting to get as far away as possible.

"I-I apologize for trespassing," she said, then berated herself for starting with something so stupid. It was all she could think to say, though.

Christine shook her head, sighed, and opened her mouth to say something better. That was when she felt the railing give way behind her. It bent just enough to knock her off balance toward the fast-moving ground below. Just as soon as she was able to comprehend what was happening, she felt something tighten around her waist and pull her upright, even into the train car a little ways.

She was staring at the railing. The bar that lay across the top had shifted and was hanging fully off on one of the ends. She should have fallen backward, off of the car, and onto the tracks. That should have been her end. Instead, though, she was standing safe and sound, staring at what she had thought was her demise.

She looked over at her savior. The proximity and the lamp inside of the car offered clarity. It was a man, who had his back to her now. But, he must have pulled her in at just the right moment. She wasn't sure where he had come from, or if she had somehow missed him before.

"Th-Thank you, monsieur," she breathed.

"I apologize," he said abruptly. "I tried to warn you, but I was a bit late. That railing has always been an issue. The managers never fix it right."

"I would have been…That would have been the end if not for you," Christine continued, ignoring what he had said. "I can't thank you enough. I owe you everything."

She thought she heard a slight snicker, but decided it was just the train playing tricks on her.

"You should head back to your train car," the strange man said. "We have nearly reached our destination and Meg will be retrieving you shortly."

Christine stepped carefully around the man, trying to catch glimpses of his face, or some way to recognize him. However, he seemed to be doing his best to keep his identity a secret.

"Can I get the name of my savior?" she ventured. "Or any other way to properly thank you in the future?"

There was a pause. "You better hurry."

Christine found her way out, but paused just outside of the door. She had been so wrapped up in what had nearly happened to her that she hadn't even realized what the man had said. Being faced with one's own mortality was shocking and surreal. But now she replayed the words that he had said to her.

"Just a moment," Christine said, holding up a finger and pivoting back toward the train car. "How did you know-" She stopped when she saw that the door was shut. She tried the handle, but found it locked.

The whole event seemed like a dream. She couldn't even be sure any of it had actually happened. She wondered if she had ever entered the last train car at all, what with the door locked. Yet, if it was all real, if it had all actually occurred, she wondered how this man could have known about Meg's promise to accompany Christine.


	5. Notes

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** I realized that I forgot to translate _mon amour_ at the end of the last chapter. It means "my love."

I apologize about the wait for this one. The holidays sucked up more of my time than I would have liked. Here it is, though! As I am writing these, I am realizing that this story is kind of intricate. I try to not dwell too much on a single day or to linger too long on too much detail in my stories, but this one seems to have chapters upon chapters dedicated to one day. I say this because I am currently in debate with myself if I am going to have the next chapter revolve around the later part of the day, and then the next on the evening, or if I should just skip ahead to the seashore.

I suppose only time will tell. :)

 **Chapter 5 – Notes**

"I promise, she was the last one," Meg insisted between bouts of laughter. Her arm was wrapped around her stomach, and she tried to suck in a large breath. "I apologize, Christine, but La Carlotta's face when you told her that you are a singer is something I will never forget."

Christine attempted to suppress a smile. "I am sure I would find it just as amusing if I wasn't actually the one incurring her wrath."

Meg linked an arm through Christine's. "Oh, you can laugh just a little."

Christine's grin broke free. "I suppose I never thought a person's eyes could grow that large." And, she giggled with Meg.

The morning meal was over. Meg had successfully taken Christine around and introduced her to nearly everyone. The labor hands had eaten first so they could commence unloading, and were currently engaged in the process of setting everything up a little ways from the tracks. The morning meal had been served in the dining car, which was just in front of the train car that Christine and her father called home. She had been officially introduced to everyone except for the labor hands, who had all left to do their work before the rest of the cast had entered the dining car. Christine had secretly hoped to watch the interaction Meg had with Raoul and Phillipe. She had hoped it would tell her which of the brothers Meg was wed to.

Meg had led Christine outside after introducing her to La Carlotta. Christine had instantly recognized the name from the managers, as well as the sign she had passed. She hadn't meant or wanted to cause any problems, but this La Carlotta seemed to make her think that that was all she really was.

"Mademoiselles!" a voice called, attracting the attention of the two young women. "We require your assistance!"

Monsieur Firmin was standing a short distance away, waving them back in his direction. Meg ran up to him, holding her blue skirt out of the dirt. She had a way of adopting an innocence when interacting with others that seemed to really work in her favor. Even with Monsieur Firmin, she clasped her hands in a very childlike manner, and held a large grin on her face.

"Is it true that we are near the sea?" she asked, delighted. "I was hoping to take Christine there."

Monsieur Firmin chuckled. "There's really no keeping anything from you, Meg. But, we really can't have anyone running off until the production is set up. I'm sure you understand."

She pretended to pout. "We never get much time to ourselves, and we must take advantage of being so near to the sea, mustn't we?"

"André and I are planning to venture into town tomorrow to promote the show," he announced. "During that time, a small group of you can take a short excursion to the sea. Of course, you'll have to return before dark, but I don't see any harm in allowing a day by the water."

Meg was so excited that she nearly jumped into Firmin's arms. He chuckled at her enthusiasm then, blushing, sent the two girls on their way.

"That was certainly a favorable response," Christine commented quietly as they walked away. "I think your excitement was very warranted."

Meg giggled. "That was a little show. People seem to respond better when I appeal to them that way. At least, the male crowd seems to."

Christine didn't know whether she should be appalled or impressed. She thought that everything about Meg was genuine, but now she wondered if the girl had been manipulating her, as well. She shook her head and scoffed, which, in the moment, made it seem like she was laughing along.

Meg entwined her arm through Christine's. "Have you ever been to the sea before, Christine?"

Christine bowed her head. "Not that I can recall. It would be quite nice, I think."

"Then let's hurry and help get everything set up!"

Dragging Christine along by the hand, Meg ran ahead.

Christine learned from Meg where the signs, tarps, and props were kept. It was the train car that she had ventured through earlier that morning. Meg took her around, revealing everything's proper place.

The first items they removed from the train cars were the costumes and embellishments for the horses. The stables had already been constructed, and their feed and water was laid out. But, there was no sign of the four white horses.

"We can leave the trunks here," Meg instructed, stopping next to the stable. Christine dragged the one she had carried over, and together the girls lifted one on top of the other. Meg popped open the top trunk. "Can you take a moment to remove these and hang them in front of each stall? They are all the same so it doesn't matter which goes to which horse. I'll get the brushes, and we can complete two tasks at once."

Meg skipped off, leaving Christine to untangle ribbons of leather with long fringe on them. She soon found herself becoming part of the chaos.

"There is no method to this at all," Christine muttered, frustrated. "Whoever put these away is no longer allowed to touch these."

She sighed, finally getting one free and hanging it on its peg. Then she worked for the next. She was still engaged with the second one when Meg came running back up. She carried a basket with several different kinds of horse brushes in it. She set it down next to the trunks.

"Here we are," she announced as she approached. "Have you finished, yet?" Seeing Christine's progress, Meg frowned. "Why, you aren't far at all, Christine!"

"Are these always left in this condition?"

"Whenever I find them, they are."

Christine shook her head and looked at Meg. "It's not my place to say, but this is ridiculous. The person who put these away so improperly should be the one to untangle these."

Meg giggled. "Whether it is your place to say or not, Christine, you have a chance." She pointed to something past Christine, who had to turn around to spot what was being referred to.

Raoul and Philippe were approaching quickly, each riding one of the white horses bareback, while trailing a second behind by a lead rope. Christine flushed upon seeing Raoul. She swiftly turned back around, nervous to face him, especially after all that she had learned from Meg. Though, she couldn't be positive yet which of the brothers Meg had secretly wed.

"You seem to be in an awfully good mood today, Meg," Philippe greeted as he and his brother slowed the horses down to approach.

"Christine is quite entertaining," Meg said with a little laugh in her voice.

"Is that who your friend is?" Raoul asked.

Their voices were so close. They must have stopped and were now in the process of dismounting. Very soon they would be bringing the horses around and into the stables and tending to them.

"Ah, the newest addition," said Philippe. "How have you gotten on so far, Christine?"

She couldn't procrastinate anymore. She turned around, her eyes instantly finding Raoul to gauge his reaction. A friendly and pleasant smile was already plastered to her face. "I haven't encountered anything I can complain about yet," she said.

Shock played momentarily on Raoul's face. His expression quickly reformed into a large smile and an amused glint in his eye. Christine hid her joy. After noticing Raoul's reaction, she shifted her gaze onto Philippe.

"That's not true," Meg chimed in. "Just now you were complaining about how the costumes for the horses were stored."

There was a general pause then Philippe burst out laughing. He held the reins for the two horses in one hand, while he used his free hand to clap his brother on the shoulder.

"Raoul, it appears your work has already made an impression."

She looked back at Raoul. She held the items in her hands close to her body, as if transferring all of her nervous energy to them. "My name is Christine," she said, as if meeting him for the first time. "It's nice to meet you."

It seemed like Raoul wanted to respond somehow, but he remained silent. He didn't even try to open his mouth to say anything, but there was a strong sense that he wasn't intentionally holding back. This amused Philippe even more.

"You've rendered him silent, mademoiselle," Philippe said. "I must say, that is a feat I have never seen done before."

"Keep working, you four!" one of the managers called from a little ways away. From that distance, it was difficult to tell which one it was. "This is a joint effort."

"Yet, you won't see either of the managers lending a hand," Meg said quietly, rolling her eyes.

"We should finish putting the horses away so that we can assist elsewhere," Philippe insisted, starting to lead the horses.

"If it's no trouble, may I assist with the horses?" Christine asked. "I should finish untangling these anyway, so I might as well do what I can here, while others are available to help in other areas."

Philippe looked from her to Raoul. "I don't see how that would be a problem. Raoul can walk you through it." Philippe took the decorations from Christine, and handed her the reins. Then, after them placing them on the trunk, he and Meg walked off together.

Christine lingered with the horses, until Philippe and Meg were out of sight. "I apologize about surprising you like this."

Raoul had just finished placing the horses he had been in charge of in separate stalls. He stared at Christine, a smile still spreading his lips.

"I'm still trying to determine whether or not I'm dreaming," he confessed.

Christine blushed and bowed her head. She didn't quite know how to respond to that. She fumbled with the reins for a moment, genuinely attempting to spur the horses into motion to focus on something other than the young man in front of her.

He walked around and took one of the horses from Christine. "Like this," he instructed quietly.

She blushed profusely when his hand grazed hers. Then he led the horse ahead of her, so that she followed by mimicking his actions.

"I knew I would see you again," Raoul was saying. "But, I didn't expect you to show up as an addition to our little troupe."

"It is a welcome change from the life my father and I were leading before," Christine confessed. "He saw an opportunity and took it. Now, here we are."

Raoul finished putting away the horse he had freed Christine of. He turned toward her to assist her with the last one.

"Remind me to thank him when I see him," he said quietly.

Christine shook her head, giggling silently. She allowed Raoul to take the horse to see that it was properly put away. While he did that, she wandered back to the costumes to try to sort them out.

"Are you always so charming, Monsieur Raoul?" she teased.

He shrugged. "It comes naturally."

"I'm sure it does." Her smile faded when the recollection came back to her of Meg's secret. She figured that the current subject would be a natural way to introduce her inquiries. Innocently, she asked, "Meg must find it quite amusing." And, she stared at him to gauge his reaction.

"Meg finds quite a lot amusing," he said broadly. "She tends to be quite playful that way."

"And, you are drawn to that playfulness, I take it."

"You won't find many here who aren't. But, to tell you the truth, it gets rather tiring at times."

There was a physical change in Raoul when he said this. He appeared worn out, haggard even. But, he still wore a smile, no matter how weary it looked. Christine couldn't help offering an understanding one in return.

"Well, at least with Meg here you don't need to search for any other form of entertainment," Christine said. "She seems to be endowed with the necessary attributes that most men look for." She was still trying to bait him into giving something away on his relationship with Meg, but her efforts seemed to be futile. She was running out of subtle ways to gather the necessary information.

Raoul appeared a little confused at this statement. Well, confused or concerned. She couldn't say which. But, having secured the last horse, he walked around to where she was trying to detangle the mass of fringe and feathers and other decorative things.

"For some, or maybe most, I'm sure," he said. "She isn't really my type, if that's what you are referring to. But, Philippe seems really entranced by her. They are typically always found together, and he likes to give one excuse or another in order just to wander near her."

Christine's heart fluttered with relief. She was quite certain now that Philippe was the brother tied to Meg. Otherwise, she was positive Raoul would not have allowed such foolishness to persist.

Her expression must have changed because Raoul decided to comment on whatever he saw.

"I must have said something that pleased you. What it was, though, I couldn't say." He swept some of her dark curls over her shoulder and out of her face. "I wish you would tell me, though. I would repeat it all the time if it meant seeing that smile come out more."

"Of everyone I met," Christine said, her cheeks stinging from smiling so much, "you are the only one to leave such a lasting impression."

"Well, mademoiselle, of everyone you met, I assure you that I am the most interesting," he proclaimed with a laugh.

She shook her head in a teasing manner. "I'd probably argue that there may have been one other person who surpassed you in that category."

He held his arms out as if he had been physically assaulted. "Who? Now you have to tell me. Which of these people can you honestly say is more interesting than me?"

"You are going to think that I am fibbing, but I actually can't say. I don't know who he is. I never got a name."

"What do you mean?" Raoul frowned.

"Without going into too much detail, I met him earlier this morning, and I haven't seen him since. He wasn't amongst the people I met in the dining car, so I can only assume he is around here somewhere." There was still amusement in her voice. She didn't notice Raoul's expression slowly turning serious, perhaps even grave.

"Did you happen to see what he looked like?"

She shook her head. "It was dark, and he stayed in the shadows. That level of mystery is certainly compelling. Perhaps you can take a note from him."

Raoul scoffed. "Wouldn't that be something?" he muttered, musing almost to himself than to her.

"Christine! Christine, over this way!"

Christine looked over to see Meg waving an arm above her head in order to attract Christine's attention. She was a ways away, but her little voice carried. Christine waved back, fueled by her current encounter and excited mood.

"We're gathering the costumes! You should come take a look!" Meg shouted, calling her over.

Christine turned to Raoul. "Do you think you can handle this on your own?"

"I prefer the current company, but you seem to be in high demand right now," he said.

She handed over the bundle she had been holding, and he cradled it in his arms, looking completely overwhelmed. As she was walking away, he called to her.

"Christine, before you go…"

She spun around. "Yes?"

"Do you ride?"

"What?"

He motioned to the horses. "Do you ride?"

"Of course."

"I have to stretch their legs later on. Would you care to join me?"

Christine paused, though she already knew her answer. It was more for dramatic effect than out of necessity. "I would love to."

Raoul smiled with relief. "Meet back here before dusk. And, one last thing."

She perked up.

"It might be wise to not wander off by yourself just yet, until you become better acquainted with your surroundings," he suggested. "I don't want to tell you what to do. I just…Please, be careful."

Christine's smile disappeared, but she nodded nonetheless. "I understand. And, I will see you later on."

She pivoted and walked off, tossing the idea of Raoul around in her head, and trying to understand his words.


	6. Monsieur Phantom

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** I apologize about the wait. With the holidays and a sudden cold, and actually a recent family tragedy, I had little time to dedicate to this fanfic. Hopefully this chapter does not disappoint, though. I'm trying to move right along so that we can get to the good stuff. So far everything has really been just set up. I wanted to stop at this point before moving onto the following day because I desperately need to build an Erik/Christine relationship somehow. That isn't to say that there will be a romance. Just that they need to interact more. So, I hope everyone enjoys this little interaction!

 **Chapter 6 – Monsieur Phantom**

Christine hummed a happy little tune to herself, unable to contain the large grin that wouldn't seem to fade. She held her cloak tighter about her slim frame, though she could barely feel the chill in the air for the delight overflowing in her heart.

She had just returned from her ride with Raoul—stretching Millie's and Agatha's legs. It had gone fairly much how she had expected, yet it had been so much different at the same time.

They had left at just about dusk, perhaps a little after. The evening meal had been served, and everyone had just been settling in. It had been a perfect time for them to depart on their excursion.

With Raoul in the lead, they had ridden away from the nearest town and into the vast, open countryside. Through the darkness, the two horses shone like white beacons. Christine did well at keeping pace with Raoul, even passing him up briefly once in a while. It was impossible to tell how long they had been riding for before they stopped near a fallen tree alone in the expanse.

She could remember even now with the utmost clarity how the night sky shone in all of its brilliance. The stars dazzled and gleamed without any artificial light to drown them out. In fact, she remembered everything with the utmost clarity.

Raoul had assisted her in her dismount from the horse. He had allowed them to graze for a bit, while he and Christine had taken a seat on the log. They had talked mainly of the carnival itself and what was expected. She had elaborated on her life before, how she had become part of the cast, and what she was meant to do.

Raoul had spoken of how he and his brother were first hired on. Much like most of the stories, he claimed, it was one of escape. She felt a connection to him—that they had been plucked from the same field. It was the first time that she had felt this closeness to anyone since joining up with the traveling show. Meg, of course, lightened her spirits and brought joyfulness to the whole thing, but their whole relationship couldn't be described at all the same.

All of this was absolutely delightful. Her stomach fluttered thinking back on the scene and Raoul. But, throughout the entire evening, there was one particular instance that caused the large grin to flourish on her face.

It was when they had gotten back into the camp. They had ridden right up to the makeshift stables, though had proceeded at a slow walk so as not to disturb anyone. With the rest of the area set up for the show, the stables were located toward the edge of everything and next to the large tent, much like before. There remained just enough room to be able to circle the wooden construction without scraping against the side of either that or the train car that had been pulled up beside it.

They stopped the horses. Raoul dismounted first. Then he assisted Christine down. She had been very aware of his hands on her waist, and especially when they lingered there after her feet had touched the ground. He had brought her down so close in front of himself that she nearly hit noses with him.

"Thank you," she had whispered, not having to raise her voice any louder to be heard.

"Christine," Raoul breathed, smiling. "You are certainly something special."

She giggled. She was quite grateful to the darkness so that the blush wouldn't show on her cheeks. "And why do you say that? You talk as though you know me."

He chuckled. "That's what I mean. I don't think I've ever met anyone like you. But, from the moment I saw you standing across the grounds and staring at me and the horses, I knew that I'd be seeing a lot more of you."

"What are you talking about? You met me petting the horses."

He shook his head. "The morning before that encounter. You were standing by the entrance tent, staring out at the horses and me. Of course, I only caught a glimpse before you were called back in. Looking back now, I assume that was the audition process that led you here."

Christine was caught off guard. "Of course that was you! You saw me?"

She playfully hit him. With quick reflexes, Raoul managed to grab her hand before she managed to retract it. He held it against his chest, sobering the mood.

"It would have been impossible not to," he whispered.

Time seemed to stand still. He inched closer, and her eyes grew quite wide. She could see it coming. Her heart raced at the idea. But, at the last moment, one of the horses nickered, interrupting the moment.

"It seems that we've got an audience," Christine said. "And a jealous one at that."

"I suppose I should see to them," Raoul said in a defeated tone.

"I should be getting back to my father, anyway. I don't want him to worry."

Christine could repeat the entire encounter word for word, as she had been constantly thinking about it ever since she had departed. She couldn't very well come face-to-face with her father being this obvious. He would ask all sorts of questions, and jump to all sorts of conclusions.

She was about to move away from the train car she had stopped against to catch her breath when the lightest sound of music filled her ears. She glanced around her, as if it was somehow coming from somewhere outside. But then she realized that it was actually echoing out from the train car she had stopped next to.

Glancing it over, she realized that it was that last car in the line. The windows were blocked out with heavy, dark curtains, so she wasn't able to see inside. She moved toward the front of the car. She had to lift herself up onto the platform to be able to access the door, but she found that it was unlocked, just like the last time she was there.

The music instantly became louder when she opened the door. She walked inside cautiously, closing the door behind her so the sound wouldn't disturb anyone else. She saw a phonograph in the far corner and stepped toward it. She couldn't recall having seen that earlier, but it had been dark, and she hadn't been completely focused on the interior.

She stretched out her hand toward the phonograph, and was close to stopping it when a sound from behind interrupted her.

"Do you always enter private chambers before knocking?"

She was so startled that she spun around, throwing herself off balance. She had to take a step backward to catch herself, and ended up running into the phonograph and causing it to cease playing because of the impact.

She glanced around frantically, but it was quite obvious who had interrupted her. With the few candelabras burning, she could easily make out the one other person in the car. It was a male standing about half a head, if not a bit more, taller than her. He wore a black suit without any sort of accent color, and his hair was swept back and held in place by some sort of product. The suit made him look quite pale and made the white, porcelain mask he wore all the more vivid.

Christine attempted to utter something, but was unable to do so at first. Then she opened her mouth for a second time and said, "I-I apologize. It was unlocked, like before." She realized how dumb it sounded after she had uttered the words.

"And, this is the second time you've entered my compartment without permission," he said.

Christine bowed her head, thoroughly embarrassed. "I apologize. I never meant any harm. I shall go now, but," and she lifted her head just slightly so she could catch a glimpse of him, "thank you again for earlier."

"Earlier?" His voice was less tense. She didn't know if he was genuinely unaware of what she was referring to. He moved a little out of her path, as if distracted by something that was covered by a sheet.

The change encouraged Christine. She took a step toward him. "It was you, wasn't it? You pulled me in when the bar broke. Thank you."

"Yes," he breathed. "It's been unsafe for some time now. I couldn't allow you to fall." He turned around and looked at her, causing her to stop. Her breath even caught in her throat. "If I may ask, mademoiselle, what brought you here?"

Christine cleared her throat. She had already told the story so many times that it was quite routine. "Well, my father and I didn't have-"

"No," he interrupted. "Not to this circus. Why did you run through here to the back of the train?"

This was a harder question to answer. Christine had to take a moment to consider it. She glanced around, attempting to collect her thoughts. While doing so, she noted the collection of sheet music and writing instruments.

"I suppose I was looking to escape," she admitted. "And, instead, I found relief. It was like my entire past and all of my troubles disappeared down the track with the rest of the world." She scoffed. "I suppose I sound absolutely silly."

"Not at all," he insisted. "In fact, I hope you believe me when I say that I know exactly how you felt when you stood there."

Christine stared at him. "You do?"

He smirked, which was barely visible from the angle he stood. "I live back here, after all."

"Of course." She shook her head. She didn't know why she was acting so foolish. "It must be much quieter than the middle of the train. That's where they've stuck us—my father and me, I mean."

"I know," he said, barely audible.

"What was that?"

He cleared his throat and shook his head. "Nothing. The managers always place the newcomers in line behind them and before the prop cars. It is just how they do things."

Christine moved a step closer to him. The mask put her off a bit, as she wasn't sure what was underneath, but this was also a sideshow. The people involved excelled at being able to profit off of mystery.

"You must have been with this attraction long," she said, choosing to ignore the unease she felt about his previous comment.

"Since the beginning." He hesitated a moment, clearly trying to work out a thought. "If you need anything, you can always come to me."

Christine smiled. "That would be lovely. I would thank you again, but I just realized that I don't even know your name."

"I've heard people around here merely refer to me as Phantom or Ghost," he told her with disdain. "I suppose that's for the best. It allows me to embody the character more."

"Well, if that's your wish," Christine said quietly. She felt the energy shifting in the room. She turned toward the door. "I should find my way back to my own car. It is quite late, after all."

"O-Of course." He rushed past her so he could open the door for her. "P-Please be careful out there."

Christine nodded. "Thank you, monsieur Phantom, for everything. It was a pleasure to meet you."

As she passed by him, out the door, he called her back one last time. "Christine, before you go. My name is Erik. You may call me that in private, if you wish."

"Erik," she tried, and smiled. "I like it much better. Good night, Erik."

"Good night, Christine."

The door closed behind her.

The train car she called home was in sight—just ahead. There was a single light glowing within. Her father was most likely waiting up for her. That was when she stopped on her route back, though. The small smile she had worn from Erik's train car slowly faded. She hadn't felt the cold and darkness all night long, but now they both seemed to press heavily upon her now.

"H-How did he know my name?" Christine realized out loud.


	7. By the Sea

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** So I kept going back and forth with this chapter regarding Raoul pre-carnival days. I know he couldn't be a Vicomte because that wouldn't make much sense. Hopefully what I did here keeps things interesting, while still seeming somewhat realistic. I know that there's been a lot of filler and character development and whatnot, but I'm thinking/hoping that from here on out there will be more action-packed chapters. Or, well, as much action as one would expect.

I hope everyone gets the little nod in this chapter to the original story. I'm not going to spoil, but I think it is pretty obvious.

 **Chapter 7 – By the Sea**

The party left about midmorning. The two managers had already set off to the closest town, each taking one of the white horses. Almost everyone had decided to attend the excursion to the seashore, but they couldn't possibly leave the site unattended. Some of the labor hands had volunteered to stay behind, as there were still some details to finish in the setup process.

It took less than an hour for them, at a leisurely pace, to arrive at the sea. As soon as it was in sight, Meg rushed forward like a child toward the lapping waves.

"Isn't it magnificent!" she called back.

Christine giggled.

"What a child," La Carlotta grumbled.

The infamous diva was just in front of them, strolling with her husband and strongman, Ubaldi Piangi. Christine had discovered the previous morning when she had met everyone just what the others had been hinting at. The woman had pursed her lips and judged her silently. There hadn't been any false niceties from her. She had even ensured that her husband regarded Christine with similar disinterest.

The pair moved ahead and away from the rest of the group, preferring their snooty solitude over the antics of everybody else. Others began to break away, as well, to enjoy the cool breeze and smell of the water.

Christine caught sight of Philippe mocking them and laughed again. Then Philippe ran off to join Meg.

"Isn't it strange how different people can be," Christine mused aloud.

"Well, you must also consider the individual case," Raoul said, adopting an exaggerated scientific approach to it.

Christine looked at him, shielding her eyes from the sunlight. "Is that so?"

He pointed to where La Carlotta and Piangi were nestling down on a blanket. "Here you have a woman, who is used to being the center of attention. Her ego becomes enflamed because of surrounding factors, such as her management and the public. It is only natural that we tend to adopt opinions of ourselves based around what other's think. Try as we might to deny this, it happens all the same. So her opinion elevates. After being so long in the spotlight, she develops a dismissive attitude to whatever she believes is trying to overthrow her position. In this case, you."

He brought his finger around and pointed directly at Christine, who giggled again. "So I am to blame for her attitude. Is that what you are implying?" she asked.

Raoul shook his head. "Not to blame, no. Just an innocent factor in the cause of human development."

Christine paused a moment, letting this sink in. Then she motioned toward Piangi. "And him? How does he fit into this relationship with La Carlotta and herself? Isn't three a bit of a crowd?"

Raoul chuckled. "He knew what he was getting into in that relationship. And, she knew, as well. He wouldn't stand up to her even he wanted to. She enjoys controlling him, and he more than likely appreciates the carefree life he has been given."

Christine nodded her approval. The two of them stopped a good couple of yards from the water. Meg and Philippe had thrown off their shoes and were running around with the waves chasing them back up the beach.

"Them," Christine said. "I don't think you could get any more different from La Carlotta."

Raoul stared at his brother and Meg with a pleased smile on his face. "Meg grew up happy and loved. Despite the environment, she thrives. Though genuine, she has also discovered that most people respond favorably to her overzealous attitude. She is smarter than she lets on, and uses it to her advantage. I would assume she would also find joy in outwitting her opponent." He sighed. "And, my brother, well, he's just in love."

This caused both of them to laugh.

Raoul unrolled the blanket he had transported under one arm. He aired it out and laid it on the ground for both of them to sit on. Christine sat on her side, her legs curving around her body. Raoul leaned back, supporting his weight on his hands.

"You're too good at that," Christine commented.

"At what?"

"Knowing people." She brushed her hair behind her shoulder and sat straighter. "So, what can you tell me about me?"

He looked over at her. There was a pause, and a smile grew on his face. "You, mademoiselle, are an enigma. I'm still trying to figure you out, to be honest."

"I should really get some sort of prize for stumping you," she mused.

"Most people are quite predictable. I can tell you about any one of these folks."

Christine looked down at the edge of her skirt that she played with. "Well, apart from me, I bet I know of one person you can't pin down with your scrutiny."

"And who would that be?" Raoul grinned.

"He goes by the Phantom," she said with a thrilling undertone. "And, his name is as mysterious as he is."

Christine was too distracted to see Raoul's grin slowly fade from his face. His expression went completely serious. But, she prattled on, not noticing.

"He is one that you wouldn't be able to read, I am quite positive," she continued.

"No," Raoul murmured. "I believe you are right, Christine. He isn't like anyone I've ever met before."

It was by his tone that she noticed his loss of enthusiasm. She turned her head toward him, but he stared out at the water.

"What is it that man does? His act must be quite interesting," she said carefully, studying Raoul.

Raoul hesitated, as if he didn't want to tell her. Finally, he relented, though. "It isn't so much an act. He composes and assists in performing much of the carnival's music. But, he also has a show dedicated solely to him."

Christine smiled. "That sounds nice. I hope I can see it during one of these upcoming performances."

Christine watched the water sparkling in the sun. She traced its path back to the horizon, trying to find its end. Her smile faded, and she dwelled on the idea of the future. She wondered if this would be her stage from now on. All of her performances would consist of a small crowd of gawkers, more interested in seeing a spectacle than actually interested in the music.

"Raoul," she said, her downtrodden town catching Raoul's ear. "Is this what you pictured for your future? Is this where you thought you would ever be?"

"No."

The answer came immediately, with no hesitation. It took her a little by surprise, but he elaborated.

"Not every story is one of heartache," he began. "My brother left home, and I followed. Philippe always has big plans in mind. We were supposed to go into business together—selling wares and trinkets before working our way up. When that fell through, he thought we could work in investments. Then, he wanted to pursue the medical field. You see where I am going with this, right?"

"Yes," she replied with a laugh in her voice. "But, you made it clear that your brother was the one leading the way with all of those potential careers. I was more interested to hear about you, though."

Raoul sighed. "We found ourselves in a bit of trouble, which led us to take up with this traveling show. Our phase of dabbling in the medical field really consisted of us reading books. But, that information proved to be useful once we got here. My brother didn't quite retain anything, which is why we had abandoned the pursuit in the first place. But, for me, though far from a professional level, I began to comprehend how to apply what I had read to real life situations. And, I rather enjoy my work here with the horses."

Raoul paused, shaking his head.

"I never expected to end up where I am now, or to be doing what I am doing. But, I am glad," he told her with a smile. "If I hadn't been through all of that and ended up here, I never would have met you. I can tell you that I have aspirations that go far beyond the confines of this place. I intend to make something of my life still. But, I will never say that I regret what has happened or what led me here. And, to be quite frank, I don't think you should regret anything, either."

Christine watched him look out to the sea. She felt inspired by what he had said. He was so hopeful for the future, while being in such a dismal situation. He didn't seem to know what he planned to do or how to go about doing it, but he knew that he was meant for more. She planted a small smile on her face and stared out across the water, as well.

"Christine!" Meg called from the edge of the water, waving for her to come join. "Christine, come along and walk in the water! It's quite lovely!"

"It's much too chilly," Christine called back playfully.

Meg rolled her eyes and ran up the shore to where Christine and Raoul were sitting. "Don't be mad, Christine. The water is lovely. You should join, too, Raoul."

Meg basically lifted Christine from her seated position and up onto her feet. Then Meg dragged her along toward the water. Christine barely had time to pull her cloak tighter about her.

Christine kicked off her shoes and rolled off her stockings. She set these items aside and dipped her toes into the cool water. It was shocking at first, but Meg had been right: it felt quite nice. Soon Christine was running up and down the coastline with Meg and Philippe.

The wind proved to be quite stronger near the water, though it went unnoticed for the most part in the fun and games that were being had. It nipped at Christine's cheeks and ran through her hair. Then it picked up the little red ribbon in her hair and blew it into the waves.

Christine gasped when she saw it land in the water. "Oh, my ribbon."

"Christine!" Meg exclaimed, watching it, too. "You've lost your ribbon!"

"Don't fret." It was Raoul. He had come into the excitement unbeknownst to the others. When they turned to spy him, he already had his vest and outer shirt off and his shoes off, and he was working on removing his trousers. "I shall retrieve it for you!"

"Raoul, are you mad?" Philippe shouted at him.

But there seemed to be no changing his mind. He dove into the water, swimming out toward where the ribbon was being washed away.

"It's just a ribbon!" Christine called. "Please, come back. It isn't worth it."

Again, though, Raoul ignored the concerned warnings. He soon had the ribbon in one fist and was swimming back to the shore.

"I don't know whether you are mad or desperate, brother," Philippe said, helping to drag him out of the water, "but next time you should put some serious thought into what you are about to do before actually doing it." Philippe slung his own sweater over Raoul's shivering shoulders. "Now get your trousers on before you embarrass yourself."

Raoul chuckled.

"Raoul, what were you thinking?" Meg declared, once the two young men were out of the water.

"He wasn't," Philippe jested. He broke away from his brother to gather the articles of clothing.

Christine shook her head, but couldn't stop the small smile that came to her lips. "You are completely out of your mind, aren't you?" she said with a laugh.

He held up his prize with a large grin. "I got your ribbon back, didn't I?"

She nodded. "Exactly. Completely out of your mind."

"Let him go, Mademoiselles!" Philippe called from further up the shore. "He's going to catch his death if you keep distracting him!"

It was just before the time when the evening meal was to be served when the party returned to their campgrounds. They had packed baskets of sandwiches and other treats to satisfy them throughout the day. They walked back in much the same way as they had walked there: in small groups chatting amongst themselves.

Little by little the people broke off to prepare as necessary for supper.

Raoul and Christine lingered together. They both wore large smiles, and were in high spirits. Raoul looked a bit disheveled. His hair fell in strings, having dried after being soaked with the seawater. He kept touching a red ribbon holding Christine's hair back, and they seemed to be chatting about it.

It was difficult to say what conversation they were having, as no sound reached the inner sanctum of the train car from where the couple stood a short distance away. That didn't keep prying eyes at bay, though. In fact, not being able to hear the conversation made the watcher all the more interested to keep a close eye on them.

Only when the couple broke apart did the heavy dark curtain fall back over the window.


	8. Where Angels Live and Demons Reside

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for all the support from everyone. I really appreciate the interest and feedback. I hope that nobody will be too surprised by this chapter, though I know that I will have some explaining to do. It may come in the next chapter or the one after. But, soon.

The song I reference in here was actually something I found when looking up songs of the time. I apologize if anything is wrong or mistyped here, but I don't pretend to know all.

I shall keep trying to research for the songs to give a bit more detail on those, instead of having a super broad overview during those scenes. I appreciate the patience, though.

And now, without further ado…

 **Chapter 8 –Where Angels Live and Demons Reside**

Christine looked at herself in the reflective glass. She couldn't believe what she was about to do, or that she was going to look like this while doing so.

Monsieurs André and Firmin had been quite successful with their trip into the nearest town two days earlier. It had been two days since the excursion to the sea, as well. There had been little time for any leisurely activities since then. Everyone had been busy practicing routines and preparing for the hordes of visitors they were likely to receive. And now, seeing the throngs of people that were wandering about the grounds, Christine was very grateful for that time they had to prepare.

She hadn't been given much instruction. The managers had merely given her some music, a costume, and simple direction in how to move about the small arena she would in and how to play for the audience. Luckily, her father was going to accompany her on his violin. She would have the familiarity and support of that. But, she felt that everything else was completely new to her. Despite her previous experience of singing in street performances, she felt nervous and unsure of what she was about to do that evening.

She lifted up her arms and twirled around slowly, criticizing the image being reflected back at her. The outfit she had been given was white with a blue and pink floral print all over it. Lace cuffs fell delicately over her hands. It was quite beautiful, she had to admit, but it wasn't her. It was setting an image of the character they wanted her to portray in her show.

Her hair had been styled up by Madame Giry, and two decorative combs stuck into either side of the bun. The fortune teller had even been kind enough to paint Christine's face a bit.

"These men always insist on overdoing it," she had said, as she had expertly traced Christine's eyes with some black paint. "What they don't realize is that less is more. They got to Meg before I could, and now they refuse to allow me to change her look. But I can still help you."

Christine smiled now thinking back on the kindness that was shown. She couldn't believe how much her face changed beneath the paint. She still looked like herself, but every feature was enhanced. Overall, her entire look spoke of a softness and purity that Christine couldn't completely relate to. The world had been cruel and unforgiving to her father and her. If it hadn't been for the love of her family, she would have given up a long time ago.

" _Mon amour_ ," her father called, startling her. "May I come in?"

" _Oui_ , papa."

The curtain drew aside momentarily and Gustave stepped inside the makeshift changing area. He stopped the instant he saw her, and a big grin erupted on his face.

"You look so beautiful," he breathed.

Christine went to him and hugged him. "You are going to make me cry."

"We can't have that," he insisted. "You'll ruin all the hard work that Madame Giry did."

"I am very happy that you will be the one accompanying me," Christine said, stepping away and straightening out her dress. "I don't know if I'd be able to go on otherwise. I am so nervous."

"Don't be," Gustave cooed. "You never were so nervous performing on the street corner."

She laughed. "That was much different. And, besides, I had the angel of music watching over me then. I had someone to impress."

"What makes you think he has ever stopped?" He smirked slyly.

Christine paused a moment to think this over. She supposed that she had been fooled into the whole angel of music story that her father had devised, but it had kept her going all of those years. She had thought that someone would spirit her away from that place. Truth-be-told, she had never really stopped believing in the possibility.

She shook her head. "I can't say, I suppose. Perhaps he has never stopped. Perhaps he will watch over me during tonight's performance."

Gustave took her hands. "There is no question about it, Christine. The angel of music will always watch over you because of your gift. When you sing, you must sing for him."

"Of course, papa," Christine agreed, somewhat half-heartedly.

Gustave kissed her on each cheek. "Now, come along. It is nearly time to go on."

Christine took a deep breath before following her father out.

A little area had been set up for quick costume changes, which is what she had been in. It was located in the back where the public didn't have access. If she wasn't nervous enough, the managers had decided to put her on inside of the big tent. She would be standing in the center with all eyes directly on her. It was going to be the biggest crowd she'd ever performed in front of.

The torches dimmed in the main area, and Monsieur André stepped out to applause as the last act retreated back stage. Meg led Nadir backstage. They both stopped when they saw Christine loitering near the entryway.

"Oh, Christine! Look at you!" Meg exclaimed quietly.

"You look ravishing, my dear," Nadir agreed. "You are fitting right in."

"You both are quite kind, thank you." Christine smiled bashfully. "But, I doubt it will matter how nice my dress is if I can't even muster the courage to open my mouth."

"You will do so well," Nadir said confidently. "The first performance is always the most nerve-wracking, but there's really nothing to it."

"He's right, Christine," Meg agreed. "It's all just memorizing lines and positioning. Become another person. Believe that you are your character and the rest will fall into place."

Gustave flashed an excited grin as he walked past. He ducked into the curtain to take his place on the edge of the center ring.

"Break a leg," Nadir whispered, and he whisked Meg away.

Christine took a deep breath. She could hear every word that Monsieur André was saying, waiting for her cue.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are so grateful for your enthusiasm for tonight's performances! You are the best audience we have ever had!" There were some cheers and applause. "We've still got a lot to show you this evening. Have you always wanted to know what the future holds? Stop by our very own fortune teller, Madame Giry. She knows all. Take a peek at a woman made entirely out of elastic. Adult eyes only." He chuckled. Then he lifted his arms up in a very showman-like manner. He motioned toward where Gustave was seated. "But now we wish to bring a little more stage culture to our festivities. We have stylings from a very talented musician, folks." The audience clapped again. "And, to accompany him, we have an up-and-coming diva, whose voice and beauty knows no match. Please welcome, in her debut, Christine Daaé!"

Christine pushed her way through the curtains. There was a small round of applause, but nothing too extraordinary. With the torches dimmed, one light from somewhere above seemed to focus on her. She felt blinded at first, shielding her eyes, as she didn't know where it was coming from or how it was shining directly on her. But, she found her spot in the center of the ring.

She stood there for a moment, unsure of how to proceed, before the soft violin tune started up. The song that had been designated for her performance was _plaisir d'amour_ , a song adapted from a poem written roughly a century before. It was a successful and popular song of the day, which was part of the reason why it was chosen.

Christine instantly hit her mark and joined in the song. The words came freely to her, and she found herself focusing more on Meg's advice to become the character than anything else. The song being about the pleasure and griefs of love was a little difficult for her to relate to. She had yet to experience the love of which was being referred to, though her thoughts instantly went to Raoul. The butterflies in her stomach fueled the emotions with which she sang by.

And, it was over before she realized.

The audience was loud with applause and cheers. She appeared shocked in their response, but managed to bow gratefully before being escorted into the back by her father. Once there, she found herself swarmed again.

"Christine! I never knew!" Meg praised, embracing her. "You were so wonderful. I was caught up in your performance."

"You did it!" Nadir said. "You became the character. You became the song. You were stupendous."

Mercier, a giant of a man, and Remy, a helping hand in the musical and backstage departments, both expressed their delight, as well. But, her success could only be short lived, as the various acts had to continue. Monsieur André was already out front announcing the next spectacle.

"Mademoiselle Daaé is one of our newest attractions here, ladies and gentlemen," he was saying above the roar of applause. "Her performances will only get better, but be advised that she will only be singing once per night. So, you must come and enjoy each unique show." Though nothing had formally been discussed with her yet, it was obvious that this was the best way he found to spike attendance and ticket sales. "We must turn away from the angelic vocals of Mademoiselle Daaé, though, to a very different act now."

Christine's smile slowly faded. She had only wanted to hear the feedback from the crowd on her performance, but was now intrigued as to what Monsieur André was referring to. Though she didn't know the ins and outs of every single act, there wasn't one off of the top of her head that she could think of to be warranting this darker design. She peeked through the curtains to watch.

"Yes, we have angels here, but we also have demons," he continued. "Be warned that what you are about to see is not for the weak of heart. We ask that only the strong of constitution look upon what we are about to reveal."

A figure draped in all black seemed to fall from the top of the tent. The way the cape shaped made it appear like wings. The figure landed gracefully and powerfully on the ground to the gasps of everyone in the crowd. It remained crumpled for the time being, while the remainder of the story was being told.

"Fallen from heaven itself! Cast out due to the amount of darkness inside of him! Marked in his appearance to match his distorted soul! We present to all of you today a demon in flesh-and-blood!"

The figure rose to his full height and flung the cloak back. A suit of all black was revealed beneath, on a trim and rather regal physique. The rogue light that had bathed Christine now turned onto this man. It rose up to encompass his face. In a swift motion of bravery, the porcelain mask that had been covering the man's face was ripped away, and what lay beneath it was revealed to the world.

Christine gasped. Her hand flew to her mouth, and her other flew to her beating heart. The sight took her aback. It frightened and devastated her. In the center of the ring stood tall a man so deformed that she could hardly make out that he was a man at all. She barely heard the gasps of horror that had erupted through the entire tent. She was so fixated that nothing else existed.

The man turned slowly around, so that the entire audience could see his deformity. He wore it as a badge of honor, it seemed, but, Christine believed she could make out a sadness in his eyes, even from that distance.

That was when she realized that he was staring right back at her. He had stopped in his rotation, having had spied her peeking through the curtain. She quickly drew back, allowing the curtain to fall over the scene and hide her from view. Her heart still pounded in her chest. It was difficult for her to catch her breath. She swiftly made her way out the back of the tent into the night air.

The cool air pierced her lungs and pinched her skin. It shocked her system into working. With her mind together again, she realized she was shaking. Her hands wouldn't stop. She felt something wet running down her cheek, and wiped away a stray tear. It was difficult to say where it had come from. She wasn't sure if it was sadness and pity that had caused her to panic, or if it had been utter dread and terror that had frozen her heart so.

* * *

 _Mon amour_ : my love

 _Oui_ : yes

 _Plaisir d'amour_ : the pleasure of love


	9. Reason

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** So many questions! I know, I know, it doesn't seem quite like Erik to show himself off in such a way. All shall be explained in time. Don't give up on me! I hope you enjoy this chapter for the most part. I wanted to bring a little something to Erik's story. So enjoy!

 **Chapter 9 – Reason**

"Raoul, what was that?"

Raoul was the first person to discover Christine. She hadn't gone back to change out of her costume. She had hardly even moved from the spot she had caught her breath at outside. She had found something to sit on, so that she wouldn't collapse. That's where Raoul had found her a little bit more than an hour later, chilled to the bone.

Raoul removed his jacket and placed it over Christine's shoulders.

"That was the Phantom," he informed with a sigh. "That is his act. It brings a lot of attention to the show, especially how the managers advertise his deformity. It's rather funny just how responsive and paranoid the public is when it comes to the representation of religious figures."

Christine shook her head. "I-I had no idea."

Raoul rubbed Christine's arm, trying to create warmth. "Of course. You are still in some shock. We should go inside. You're like ice."

"Yes, of course," Christine mumbled rather distractedly.

Raoul assisted her to her feet. He ended up leading her to the darkened dining car. He got onto the platform first then lifted her up, as well. Then he went about turning up the lanterns to produce light.

The car consisted of tables bolted to the ground to either side, creating a long center aisle, and moveable wooden chairs. Christine took a seat at a table that was just a few in from the door. She was too busy still trying to wrap her head around everything she just witnessed that she didn't realize Raoul had found a small stash of brandy and was bringing over two glasses.

"Here," he said, offering her a glass, "this will help."

Without realizing what was in it, Christine gulped down the liquid. She sputtered and coughed, her mind finally focusing.

"Tea would have worked equally as well," she said between her coughing fit.

"Perhaps." Raoul smirked and sat across from her, sipping from his cup. "But, I can already see the color coming back into your cheeks."

"Are you sure it isn't just the makeup?" Christine said, doubtfully.

Raoul shook his head. "Definitely not."

They sat in silence for a moment, getting comfortable and allowing the noiseless train car to completely isolate them.

"What are you thinking?" Raoul whispered.

"I don't know. I really don't know." Christine took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts. "When I first saw him, I couldn't believe that something, er, someone like that could be alive. How does one go day-by-day with such an impediment? How does one learn to overcome a physical obstacle that all the world can see and will judge?" Her deep brown eyes darted onto Raoul. "He stood in front of that audience baring his distortion to the world. Was this his choice?"

"I couldn't say," Raoul admitted. "You couldn't call us friends, or even acquaintances. I think we spoke once, and I got a distinct impression that he didn't prefer my company."

"No wonder he keeps to himself," Christine mused aloud. "There was so much sadness in his eyes, though, Raoul."

"Do you think the managers are somehow forcing him to expose himself?"

Christine shook her head, unsure. "I couldn't say. He didn't appear to be under duress."

"I wouldn't put it past the managers to rightly manipulate someone, though," Raoul said quietly and carefully. "After all, wasn't it just your father who had initially auditioned? How did you come to have your own act?"

Christine scoffed, but Raoul had certainly managed to get a small smile on her lips. "I suppose you are right. I never thought I would ever find myself amongst you lot, and look where I am. I just wanted my father to be happy, and, at the time, it seemed the only way that he would have been hired would be with my consent to join in, too. All he ever wanted was for us to be comfortable and secure. It cost nothing for me to do this for him."

"You care for your father a lot, don't you?"

"Of course. It has been just him and me against the world, since my mother passed away when I was little," Christine told, reminiscing, a small smile on her lips. "So everything I do, I do it for him. He was the reason I agreed to become a part of this show. He is my reason. But, what would be the Phantom's reason for allowing himself to be paraded in front of an audience like that every night?"

There was but a slight pause, where the two of them were sorting through their thoughts, before the door swung open to the dining car. Philippe was trying to catch his breath, his chest heaving. He looked quickly between the two of them, seeming to use the moment to stall while he took a few gulps of air.

"What's going on in here? Monsieur Firmin saw lights on and told me to check on the situation," Philippe said.

"We were just stepping away from the festivities for a moment to clear our heads," Raoul said simply.

"You know you aren't supposed to be in here during show time. Christine, I apologize. Raoul knows better, and he should have told you."

"Please don't be upset. It was my fault. I was in a bit of a shock, and Raoul took me here to try to calm me," she said.

"Right," Philippe muttered. "Well, let's go."

Raoul started toward the door, following his brother.

"Would it be permitted for me to stay here just a bit longer? I can turn off the lamps so that nobody knows. I just don't think I am quite ready to return to the world yet." Christine smiled sadly.

After a pause, Philippe answered, "If you must, but try not to draw attention. Raoul, extinguish the lights and meet me by the horses."

"Duty calls," Raoul said with some laughter in his tone. He turned down the lights except for the one closest to Christine. This one he dimmed significantly, but kept it alive. "Keep this low and nobody should notice. I hate to leave you here in the dark."

Christine smiled grateful and watched him go.

Alone, Christine turned back to the front, facing away from the door. She was glad for the silence. It gave her more of an opportunity to think. Raoul's presence had been very comforting, but it hadn't helped her work through her emotions and nerves.

Her mind kept replaying the spectacle she had witnessed inside of the tent. The image of the deformity was forever etched in her mind. No matter how hard she willed it away, shook her head, closed her eyes, it was ever-present.

The initial shock and fear had nearly worn away. She discovered a feeling of pity and sadness attached to the memory now. She wondered how she had never come to that conclusion before. Granted, she had never gotten a good look at him.

She heard the door creak open, but hardly reacted to it. She figured it was someone coming in to tell her off for being somewhere she wasn't allowed to be.

"I know," she said loud enough to be heard. "I apologize. I was just looking for a place to clear my head. I'll leave."

She stood up and turned toward the door, but came to a dead stop with an audible gasp. Though she knew someone had entered, she hadn't expected to see the person foremost on her mind. He swayed inward, the door closing behind him. He held a lit candle, the light of which danced playfully off of a porcelain mask now covering the distortion that had shocked and awed.

"Please don't leave on my account," he said. "Especially since it is surely due to me that you find yourself here."

Christine's head drooped. She felt terrible. She just got confirmation that he had seen her in her visible terror. She knew that simple apology wouldn't make things right. He was probably used to such reactions all of the time, but she felt as if she had betrayed him somehow.

"I know how terrible I am for having such a blatant reaction to your act," she said. "I apologize. I was just so caught off guard. I hope you can forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive." He whisked past her, setting the candle down on one of the tables. "It happens."

"Why do you do it then?" The question came out quietly, barely above a whisper. Christine knew that he had heard her, but she still persisted as if he hadn't when he didn't immediately answer. "Why do you put yourself through that every single night?"

After a brief hesitation, he said, "It-It's difficult to explain to someone as beautiful as you, Christine."

She had stood and taken a few steps to close in behind him. "Please," she said softly. "Help me understand."

He turned around to face her. "I was raised as a monster because of my physical imperfection. I was taught that it was an indication of my corruption and blackened soul." He scoffed. "How could a child, new to the world, already have such a stamp? How can a child stand alone against the entire world without knowing what he did wrong?"

Christine shook her head. "It is wrong and unfair to put that blame on a child. Children are innocent creatures."

"Well, my mother did not think the same. She left a note blaming me before she killed herself."

Christine gasped. Mechanically, she reached out a hand to comfort him, but he shied away from her touch. She withdrew her hand, as if she had done something wrong, and held it to her chest.

He shook his head. "I suppose you could say that this is my repentance. Revealing my deformity to the world every single night, hearing their gasps and curses, seeing their fear is what I deserve."

"But, you're wrong."

His gaze locked onto her, his eyes wide with shock and confusion.

"You're wrong," she said again, more defiantly. "You don't deserve such a punishment just for being born different from everyone else. You expect to be shunned for something that is beyond your control. You have done nothing wrong."

Silence passed between them.

There was something in Erik's eyes that Christine couldn't define. He took a step forward, and his hand moved slowly upward. He stretched it just slightly forward before thinking better of the action. In a swift motion, he spun away from her and picked up his candle.

"I must go," he said, sliding past her and out the door.

Christine stared after him, the door still swinging with the abrupt opening. Her chest rose and fell quickly, as her heart raced with the intensity of whatever just occurred. At least she had gotten over her fear.


	10. Change of Plans

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** So, I have realized that I do a lot of scenes where Erik is either creepily watching Christine, or saying something that he wouldn't have known. I hope to redeem him a bit in these lessons that Christine is going to take with him, as I don't want him to come off completely, ridiculously bad. I'm not at all knowledgeable in the music department. I don't know how long it would take to teach certain aspects of training ones voice or, for that matter, how long it would take to master such things. I've made these statements before, like in my other fanfiction Songbird. I'm sure it will seem even less realistic in this one. I apologize about that in advance.

I will say that I have been toying with the idea of suddenly making Raoul this terrible person and turning the tables completely on where this story look like it is going. But I feel like it would be impossible to do at this point. I always like a little surprise, which is what I was going back and forth with in the beginning. I think I made Raoul too likeable at this point, though, which isn't a bad thing. I think he gets too much hate. In fact, I love Raoul in the Broadway Phantom of the Opera. Granted, I probably should say I love Steve Barton's version of Raoul.

It is him that I tend to base my Raoul's off of. At least in this story, with maybe a little more flair added in. The other Raoul's perhaps not so much…

Anyway, I hope that in these next couple of chapters is where things really start to get interesting. I don't have too much of a sense of where the troupe is going. Probably across the country since it will take a few days. But, I wanted to have an extended train scene like what is going to happen. I may end up including another, though, as this one may have come about a little too soon…I'm just going to leave it at that and see what happens.

 **Chapter 10 – Change of Plans**

The traveling show spent a few weeks in the same spot, and each and every night Christine performed the same song in some different costumes and make ups. Granted there were only so many costumes the production had. She was only ever made to perform the one time each night, as André had said. It was true that she got better the more times she performed. She even memorized certain gestures and vocal surprises that seemed to be particularly exciting for the audience. And, each night, the crowd grew and grew.

By the final night, so many people had come to attend the show that they couldn't all fit in the stands. There were a lot of people standing by the entrance to the large tent, trying to peer over one another to catch a glimpse of the acts.

It was a relief once the last person left the grounds and the entire cast was able to rest. They had all decided that, since the show had gotten so popular over the remaining weeks, they would leave the night for relaxation and pack up in the morning. The managers had called a late meeting with everyone to be held in the large tent.

Christine had changed out of her costume and into a frock that was much more comfortable. She had her cloak wrapped around her to stave off any chill, and had loosened her hair, which cascaded in tight curls down her back. She found a seat on the stands next to Raoul, Meg, and Philippe. The four of them had become quite a set. Gustave remained near Monsieur Reyer, a man who was advertised as having rubber skin.

Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin walked in front of everyone. They didn't stand in the middle of the ring, as there weren't so many of them to warrant that. They were close enough to be noticed and heard by everyone.

"Attention, everyone!" Monsieur Firmin addressed them. "Attention now!"

The small side conversations came to a close and everyone looked his way.

"André and I wanted to congratulate everyone on a wonderful run," he began. "We will be packing up tomorrow and heading out to a new location, but tonight will be used for rest and relaxation."

André nodded, and chimed in, "You all did such an amazing job. We have never had so high of an attendance before." His eyes darted onto Christine. "Mademoiselle Daaé, would you please stand up. Monsieur Daaé, you as well."

Christine glanced at Raoul to one side and Meg on the other as if asking for help. Neither offered any. In fact, Meg giggled a little and pushed her up. Christine reluctantly got to her feet, feeling very self-conscious and nervous. Singing alone in front of a large crowd of people was becoming more and more natural. Yet, here she was feeling overwhelmed having the attention drawn onto her by her colleagues.

"I believe we owe our newfound success to our newest team," Monsieur André declared. "We should give them a big round of applause."

He led the group in applause, but the rest was very lackluster. Christine glanced around with a small blush on her face. Her eyes met La Carlotta's glare. La Carlotta didn't clap. She didn't even pretend to be congratulatory. Instead, she wore the sourest expression on her face, and her gaze was narrowed so much that her eyes nearly disappeared.

Christine swallowed nervously and looked away.

"There is really nothing that can compare to Mademoiselle Daaé's lovely voice," Monsieur Firmin took over from where his partner left off. "Due to the amount of success that Mademoiselle Daaé's performances have encountered, we are going to change them up a bit and rearrange some of the storylines and choreography to make even more entertaining shows."

"This also means that we may be bringing in some guest appearances," Monsieur André added quickly. "Don't be surprised if we request a collaboration in the near future."

Christine's mind went blank then instantly became busy with all sorts of thoughts. She was finding this out at the same time everyone else was, and it was her performances that they were discussing. She had realized early on that she had little to no creative input on the productions, but now she was just to be subject to whatever strange acts the managers had in mind. Her mind tried to picture the sorts of things that she would be doing, but she could never fully believe anything that came to mind.

The next thing she knew, they were being dismissed.

"Don't let this leisure time go to your heads now," Monsieur Firmin was saying. "We still have an early start in the morning, and our next destination is sure to be exciting. It will take us a couple of days to get there, so prepare yourself for confinement to the train cars. But, for now, have a good evening and we shall reconvene at first light to begin breakdown."

Everyone began filing out, excited and eager to have time alone. Christine was following Raoul toward the exit when she was stopped by a hand on her arm. She turned to see Monsieur André.

"Mademoiselle, would you mind waiting just a moment? There is something we would like to discuss with you." He drew her to the side even before she had a chance to answer.

They waited until the last of the others departed and it was just the two managers and her left inside of the tent.

"Yes?" she asked, glancing between them.

"We are so impressed with how well you have done thus far. There are no words to explain how beautiful your performances are. But, we have been talking and we believe we know of a way to enhance your talent and make your voice even stronger. We suggest that you take some lessons to train your voice to reach beyond its current limits."

"Certainly. I understand," she replied. "My father can assist me. He's brought me this far."

The two managers looked at each other, pausing for a moment. Or, hesitating.

Monsieur Firmin picked the conversation back up. "We would like to expand you beyond those restrictions, Mademoiselle. We know of a very talented individual that has already agreed to tutor you. We wanted to inform you immediately because we believe that you should take advantage of the train ride to begin your lessons."

Christine didn't quite know what to say at first, but then nodded. "Of course. I shall do whatever you think best for the sake of the show."

Both men smiled gratefully and overenthusiastically. "Excellent! We shall give you more instruction tomorrow. Do not let him put you off. He may seem indifferent when you first begin, but trust that he is quite eager for these lessons."

Monsieur André nodded, getting caught in the moment. "Yes, in fact he was the one to-"

But before André could finish, Firmin elbowed him and gave him a look that made him bite his lip.

"Anyway, Mademoiselle," Firmin said, "we've already taken up too much of your time. Please, go enjoy your evening. You deserve it more than anyone."

Christine moved toward the exit. She was rather surprised to find that, when glancing over her shoulder, the managers actually walked in the opposite direction, toward the area that might be labeled backstage. She lingered just outside of the tent, watching until they disappeared. Then she proceeded to locate Raoul.

She discovered him with Philippe and Meg tending to the four white horses. Meg was giggling while Millie finished devouring an apple from her hand. Philippe instantly took her hand away from the horse's mouth, holding it in his, and wiped her palm down with a rag.

"They finally released you," Raoul commented, spying Christine coming toward them.

Christine remained silent. She walked up to the nearest horse and petted its nose, contemplatively. It wasn't difficult for the others to notice her silence or thoughtful expression.

Raoul leaned in. "Did something happen, Christine? What did they talk to you about?"

Christine shook her head. She glanced around to make sure the four of them were alone. She took a step away from the horse so that she could be heard by all of them. Meg and Philippe had stopped what they were doing and had turned their attention onto Christine.

"The managers are focusing a lot of attention onto my performances," she began, trying to find the best way to speak about what she was told. "They want me to grow and get better, which is my goal, as well."

"But…" Philippe encouraged.

"There are going to be vocal lessons starting immediately, but not with my father," Christine said, her voice dropping toward the end of the sentence.

"But, Christine," Meg chimed in, "isn't it lovely that you'll be exercising your voice and learning everything you can do with it? Your voice is already beautiful, so I can only imagine what it will sound like after some lessons."

"But, who is going to be the one to give you those lessons?" Raoul asked. "Did they tell you?"

"I can't really think of any sort of professional in our midst," Philippe considered aloud.

"They didn't outright name this mysterious tutor, but I have a feeling I know exactly who it is without their disclosure," Christine said. She sighed. "I don't quite know how I feel about the whole situation. It's a great opportunity to learn, as you said, Meg, but I can't help being nervous and uncomfortable with it all."

"It's new to you," Raoul told her. "It is only natural to feel a little unsure about the whole thing."

Christine hesitated. "I suppose it's that, but…"

She trailed off. She didn't want to go on in the present company. She didn't even know if she could verbalize what she was feeling. She sighed, dropping the thought from her mind at the present. Instead, she forced a large grin and turned to Meg.

"Meg, do you think that perhaps we will be collaborating as part of this new show?" Christine asked excitedly. Or, at least with as much mustered excitement as could be found.

Meg's eyes lit up at the idea. "Christine, the possibility hadn't even crossed my mind. That would be so lovely to be able to perform with you. And, what if we had the girls, too?" Meg indicated the four horses. "We could have such a spectacular show!" She giggled.

"You don't know yet what the managers have planned," Philippe told her.

Meg pretended to pout. "Oh, Philippe, don't spoil our fun. Why wouldn't the managers pair us together? Don't you think that would be an entertaining show?"

"I'm quite certain that if the managers decided to pair you two up for a show, it wouldn't be the act itself that the audience found so entrancing." As Philippe said this, he snaked his arm around Meg's waist and, at the last moment, pulled her in close.

She squealed and broke free. Meg ran off playfully with Philippe chasing closely after her.

"Sometimes they can be a bit much," Raoul said with a chuckle after they had been consumed by the darkness.

Christine found herself alone with Raoul once again. She wasn't terribly concerned or put off by this. She found it rather comforting to not be alone with all of the new developments in the works. She wasn't entirely sure what she would have done or what she would do with the information on her own.

"Distracting might be a better word to describe them," Christine said quietly with a little laugh.

A pause of silence passed between them while Christine went back to petting the horses.

"We've gotten to know each other quite well so far, Christine," Raoul started, his voice barely piercing the quiet. "I can tell when something is bothering you."

Christine bowed her head, smiling bashfully. "I didn't want to say anything in front of Meg and Philippe. You are absolutely correct, though, that we have grown closer, Raoul. I feel I can trust you, and I am comfortable around you."

Raoul moved closer to Christine. "Of course you can trust me, Christine. I want to be able to understand what bothers you, and be able to offer at least a listening ear if not more." He moved in closer so that he was right next to her. "Confide in me, Christine. Let me be here for you."

Christine turned abruptly toward him, searching his eyes. Then, quite frankly, she said, "I'm scared, and I don't know why. I have this ribbon of fear wrapped around my heart, but I can't find where it is coming from."

"Don't think you have to go through with this, Christine," Raoul insisted. He placed his hands comfortingly on her shoulders, and she seemed to crumble a little under his touch. "Whatever the reason, if you are this concerned, don't force yourself to follow the managers' instructions."

She shuffled closer to him, placing a hand delicately on his chest. The action appeared to be in necessity of keeping her balance. "I don't want to cause trouble, and I feel as if my father and I are just now acclimating to the culture of this production. I'm willing to move forward with their instructions, but…"

She trailed off, her head drooping.

"You don't have anything to fear, Christine," Raoul told her softly. He lifted her chin, so that she could see the sincerity in his eyes. "I'm here. You can run to me at any time. You can confide in me all of your troubles. I just want you to feel safe and happy. I wouldn't let anything happen to you."

A blush had stained Christine's cheeks. She nodded, unable to form words in the wake of what Raoul just told her.

"Christine!"

The call from her father interrupted the moment. Christine backed away from Raoul.

"Thank you, Raoul, for your consideration," she told him.

Raoul smiled. "Everything I said is true, Christine. You can always come to me."

She nodded, backing away, then proceeded to find her father.

"Ah, there you are," Gustave greeted when she met up with him. "Are you ready to turn in for the night? Apparently we all have an early start in the morning."

"Of course."

"Are you excited that the managers recognized your hard work?" Gustave asked as they made their way to their cabin.

"It is an honor to be noticed," she worded carefully. "I was quite surprised that I wouldn't be taking my instruction from you anymore, though."

"It's all part of the industry, though," he explained, without fully grasping her feeling in the situation. "One has to learn from all sorts of sources. That is the only way to grow in all directions."

Christine nodded absently. "I understand. That makes sense."

"I am curious who your tutor will be," Gustave continued. "I suppose they have a secret genius hidden in the wings. I'll be proud to see you grow, though."

They had reached the train car. Gustave motioned for her to head inside.

"I'll let you prepare for bed first," he said.

"Thank you. Meg was telling me that Raoul made her a privacy screen," Christine told. "I've been meaning to ask him about creating one for our cabin, as I don't want to continue to inconvenience you."

"You spend all of your time with him," Gustave noted casually. "Should I be at all concerned?"

Christine laughed. "Raoul is a very charming and considerate person, papa. You two should really get to know one another better. You would like him, I think."

Gustave shrugged. "I suppose that now I have to. Where my daughter is concerned, I should show active interest. Perhaps this extended train ride will allow us time to talk."

Laughing, Christine entered the train car and closed the door behind her. She hung up her cloak and picked out her nightgown, laying it out on the cot. She proceeded to close any of the curtains that were open for privacy. She reached the last one and paused, staring outside. Her eyes had landed on the train car that was always last in line—the one that she seemed to know so well.

The only sign of life inside was a very dim glow that was able to creep out from behind the heavy curtains. There wasn't anything to indicate what was occurring inside, but Christine felt as though she already knew. Even without confirmation, she knew it was Erik who was to be her tutor. She wasn't entirely sure if he had initiated the lessons or if the managers had persuaded him. She had the strong feeling that he was in his cabin at that very moment preparing for the lessons. He was readying his instruments, maybe even cleaning up a little to allow for proper space and seating arrangements.

What she had told Raoul was the truth. There was this ever growing ball of fear inside of her, and she had a feeling that one day soon it was about to burst. She couldn't even say that it was in regards to these new lessons that were being forced upon her, or if it was in regards to something that would occur in the future. She couldn't identify where it stemmed from. But, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would be facing it very soon.


	11. First Lesson

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** Hello! I hope you all enjoy this chapter. It is the first time we will see Erik and Christine in a more respectable setting, or whatever that means. I always picture that their relationship would be one where he pushes her and is hard on her, but for her own benefit. And, she grows to understand that. I am hoping to make him a little more intense in upcoming chapters with her, but for now, I rather like where it has begun.

 **Chapter 11 – First Lesson**

Christine stood in front of the closed door to the train car, swaying gently with the motion of the train. She had been standing in that spot for a few minutes now. She was nervous to knock on the door. Despite having the night to think it all over, she was still at a loss. She was having trouble picturing just how these lessons would go.

She took a deep breath, resolving to move forward instead of remaining stationary, in her physical route and mental decisiveness. With her heart fluttering, she brought up a small fist and rapped it upon the door three times. She had hardly lifted her hand away from the door the third and last time when it popped open.

She stared wide-eyed for a moment, and Erik did the same. Then he stepped aside and ushered her in with a sweep of his hand.

"Please, come inside," he muttered.

Without saying a word, she bowed her head and entered.

All of her assumptions from the night before regarding the space proved to be correct. It was much cleaner and more spacious than she previously recalled. The cot was made up with tight sheets and folded blankets. It looked almost too nice to use. The curtains appeared to have been switched out with ones that allowed more light in, for she could see everything as if she was standing outside in the sunlight.

There weren't any stray articles of clothing or seemingly random placement of anything. Without all of the clutter, she was able to clearly see a compact organ pushed up against one of the walls, as well as a violin on a stand on the floor next to it. The only thing that appeared to be missing from her previous visit was the cracked mirror. She didn't know where that had gone off to, but it wasn't anywhere in sight.

The door clicked behind her, but she didn't react. She took a few small, slow steps inside, glancing about.

"Where do you want me?" she asked, breaking the silence.

Erik, who had been passing by her at the time to get to his organ, stopped mid-step and pivoted toward her. He had a mild look of surprise beneath the expressionless mask. "What was that?" he asked, breathless.

Christine's expression reflected his surprise. "Oh, for the lesson? I've never had professional lessons before, so I don't know the proper posture or etiquette, I suppose."

"Right," he said, almost more to himself than to her. He finished sweeping past her. "If possible, standing would be the choice stance, to allow the air to circulate the best. But, if you find the train's motion too disturbing, please feel free to take a seat. There is a chair just there that you can pull up."

Christine turned to see a cushioned seat against the wall opposite that which the organ sat against. She left it be for now, but kept its location in mind. She wasn't terribly comfortable with the movement of the train yet.

"If you're ready, we will start with you singing a song," he continued, getting comfortable in front of the organ. "Though you may be a little tired of it now, I'm going to have you sing what you have been performing for the past month. I'd like to be able to hear your voice up close for once."

"Does that mean you've listened to my performances before?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

After a brief hesitation, he answered, "Of course."

She waited for further explanation, but none came. She was left with a feeling of anticipation and disappointment. She frowned, turning away in case he should look over his shoulder and see her.

"Well," she said with a sigh, "shall we get started?"

There was a singular pause then beautiful notes drifted into the air. Christine's voice met up with the music. When it was over, there was a heavy silence that fell. Christine stared at Erik's back, wondering what he was thinking. She started to have doubts when he finally spoke, his voice piercing the air.

"What was that?"

His voice came out barely above a whisper. Christine took a tentative step toward him, leaning in as if to hear.

"What did you say?" she asked carefully.

Erik spun around, startling her. She fell back a step or two, her hand clutching at her chest. He wore a frown, and appeared to be rather unhappy.

"That was unacceptable, Christine," he reprimanded. "I can't even believe what I just heard."

She was too shocked to be upset. "W-What?"

He got up and began to pace angrily. "There was no feeling and no technique. It was as if you didn't even try."

She furrowed her brow. "This is supposed to be a lesson on how to better my voice. How am I to know what you expect?"

"I expect you to give it your all every single time. I won't accept anything less from now on. Is that understood?"

He had turned on her and held her in place with his forceful gaze. Christine couldn't even find words. She nodded dumbly to show her understanding, but she wasn't even positive she did fully understand. They had only ever interacted on a couple of occasions, but he was so passionate and outgoing with his expectations for her singing. She was a little thrown off, but then again she had never taken the craft so seriously.

Erik stopped pacing. He seemed to settle down, and took a seat at the organ again. He faced Christine, though, in order to address her. He motioned to the seat behind her.

"Take a seat for a moment, Christine," he insisted.

She did as she was instructed without saying a word. She lowered herself delicately onto the small chair, gathering some of the skirt of the crème colored dress she wore into her lap. Though her fingers played with the hem of the skirt, her attention was focused wholly on Erik.

"You will learn quickly that I am very harsh and to the point," Erik informed carefully, "but, in the end you will understand. I am not going to take it easy on you just because…" But he immediately stopped in the middle of the sentence, as if not wanting to go on.

"I don't expect anyone to treat me differently," Christine explained. "Your methods will be acceptable. I will adjust accordingly. You don't have to be concerned."

Erik nodded, taking a moment. "Your pitch was off in a few places. You have to be careful about that. Though I doubt the audience would notice, anyone with trained ears will certainly spot the mistakes. You must also learn the right spots to breath during the song. Sometimes your breaths interrupt the song, causing a noticeable airy transition when there otherwise shouldn't be one. You must also learn to transition more seamlessly between your head voice. I would prefer that you don't use it at all, but I can see where it may create a rather lovely impact."

"Was there anything else?"

"Not at the moment. I suggest we go through the song again, but this time take into consideration my notes. Let me know when you are ready to begin again."

Erik turned around to face the keys, as if giving Christine some privacy to think over all of the criticism. Instead of heading directly into the song, she thought over his critique for a minute.

"I'm ready now," she said quietly.

She stood as the notes began. She sang every word with feeling, listening to what was being said and reacting in the way she believed would be appropriate. When the song came to a close, her chest was heaving, but she kept her composure.

Erik turned around slowly. His expression was softer, but there wasn't a smile or any other indication of what he was thinking. Still, Christine believed that she could tell that he was pleased. There was something about his entire demeanor now that she could tell was different.

"That, mademoiselle," Erik said, "was better."

A small smile spread Christine's lips.

"I don't know why it has taken us this long to actually sit down and talk," Gustave was saying. "I suppose it is a busy production."

"Now seems as good a time as any," Raoul answered. "Being confined to a train allows for a lot of free time. I've been meaning to find a time to talk to you, as well, monsieur."

"I think we both have the same subject in mind then." Gustave said, nodding. He leaned forward across the table a little. "My daughter is the one who encouraged me to sit down with you and talk. I think that her doing so means that she has strong feelings for you. How do you feel about that, Raoul?"

A large grin was already on Raoul's face, even before Gustave finished his sentence. "Monsieur Daaé, it would make me the happiest man in the world. Christine is…amazing." He laughed bashfully. "That doesn't even describe it. Your daughter is really so different than anyone I've ever met."

Gustave nodded, a small, reminiscent smile on his lips. "I'd like to say that I felt the exact same way when I met her mother. She wasn't like anyone I'd ever met before."

"She's only mentioned her mother maybe once or twice in all of the times we've talked," Raoul told. "I know that you two didn't have nearly enough time with her."

"She has so much of her mother in her, though." A tear escaped and rolled down Gustave's cheek. He caught it and wiped it away, sniffling.

"I apologize, I didn't mean to bring up-"

Gustave held up a hand to stop Raoul, and Raoul obeyed.

"There's no need to apologize, Raoul. We should always look back on the ones we love with a smile on our faces and a tear in our eye," Gustave said happily.

"Beautifully put, monsieur," Raoul agreed.

"I'm glad my daughter encouraged this talk," Gustave continued. "I can see why she likes you. You are quite sincere and a considerate person. She certainly didn't make that up."

"I appreciate what you've said. I apologize I didn't come to you sooner, Monsieur Daaé, but I would really like to assure you that Christine is safe with me. I would never do anything to hurt her. Even in this short time, she has really come to mean a lot to me."

"I believe it," Gustave said with a smile and a nod.

Raoul allowed him a moment to absorb what he had said. But, his smile faded slowly as he made a slight turn in the conversation.

"That being said," Raoul told him carefully, "I suppose there is a concern that you should be aware of."

"It involves Christine?" Gustave asked, becoming invested.

Raoul nodded. "And her new tutor…"


	12. Dreams for Now and Dreams for the Future

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** We got past the first lesson. Yay! So I am going to start to speed things up just a little bit.

Igenlode Wordsmith: My lack of any musical ability/technique shows itself! This is why I always preface that I am not at all knowledgeable regarding singing, proper techniques, etc. Forgive my lack of knowledge, but hopefully a small detail like that can be overlooked.

I know it has been a long time coming for the next update. Hopefully you all enjoy this chapter. It is a little bit here and a little bit there, but I think it is necessary to establish some things…

 **Chapter 12: Dreams for Now and Dreams for the Future**

 _Christine found herself on the same corner that her father and she had performed on every day. Her mouth was open and her arms were thrown out wide, but there was no sound in this world. She was singing, but everything was silent. She was accompanied by violin, but shadows covered the face of who she could only assume was her father. Though the strings were plucked and tickled, the instrument produced no noise._

 _The audience that watched the performance clapped and clapped. Their hands wouldn't stop moving. But, again, no noise was produced. Still, they continued to clap, harder and harder. Christine opened her mouth more, to sing above the roar of the applause that she sensed, but could not hear. She sensed that it would have been getting louder and louder, so she pushed herself to sing louder and louder._

 _The sky grew darker and darker the more she sang. The already gray world became even more dismal and depressing. Instead of looking at the gathered passersby, she stared straight up at the sky. She watched the clouds move and shift. She tried to stop it. She knew the only way was with her voice, but the clouds continued to close. They would not yield._

 _Then she stopped. She ran out of breath. She gasped and spluttered, sucking in large amounts of air. She doubled over, clutching at her chest. She felt on the verge of tears. The world had blackened, and her hope had vanished along with the sunlight._

 _Just then, though, the entire world stopped. There wasn't any sort of indication other than a feeling of complete stillness. She slowly righted herself, glancing about. The audience had been frozen in mid-applause. The violinist had been retracting the bow. Yet, she was still able to move._

 _Having spun around, she resumed her position. That's when she noticed them: a pair of wings had sprouted on her back. She stretched out her arms, and the wings moved almost in unison. As she tested out her wings, a ray of light shone down from the sky directly onto her. It was a mere pinprick at first._

 _She spotted it, though, and stared upward. She stared at the little bit of light, her heart fluttering. Then she opened her mouth and began to sing again._

 _Her voice pierced the silence. She started slowly, gently, pronouncing each word, feeling all of the emotion. Then her voice grew and grew. She didn't sing for the people. She sang for herself. She sang for that little bit of light that had remained alive within the darkness._

 _As she sang, the clouds began to roll back. The sun shone directly on her, like a spotlight. She continued through the song, embracing every word, every emotion._

 _Then, abruptly, it ended._

 _It was as if someone had turned a switch and the sound disappeared once more. Christine stopped, confused and disoriented. Everybody had disappeared along with the sound. She was alone. Even the violinist was gone. The spot of light shone directly on her, but the rest of the world was pitch black. She couldn't see beyond the little circle of light she stood in. But, there was a figure…_

 _She could see movement in front of her, in the darkness. It was coming closer. She backed up as much as possible, but she couldn't leave the circle of light. She felt like a moth trapped in a glass jar._

 _The figure moved in closer, and due to the glow of the light, she was able to discern who was with her._

 _It was the mask she saw first. The white porcelain flickered to life then the outline of the rest of the body. There were no eyes, no facial details, but it was obvious that he was looking right at her. She couldn't escape._

 _She felt a deep fear in her gut, yet the desire to impress. She opened her mouth and began to sing. There was silence throughout the world again, but she sang unsteadily and unsure of herself. She knew he was judging her and waiting for her to perform better._

 _She turned, as if to escape, never skipping a note. But, the mask was there. She turned again, but it was there. Soon, there were masks encircling her. They were everywhere just outside of that circle of light. She couldn't escape, and she couldn't stop singing. She tried, but she couldn't. The circle of light was her cage. Her voice was not hers anymore, and it wouldn't stop._

 _It was being controlled by this masked figure, and he would never allow it to stop._

 _xXx_

"Christine, what is wrong with you today?" Erik said, stopping abruptly. "You are sloppy and distracted. You must remain focused."

Christine sighed and took a seat. He was absolutely right. Her head was somewhere else completely, and it showed in her singing.

"Can I talk to you about something, Erik?" she asked.

"It better not be about the stop today," he grumbled. "The entire train is abuzz. It is really quite annoying."

The train was making a stop in their route to resupply. There would be enough time to allow the people on board to get off the train and walk about for a while. Needless to say, everyone was quite excited.

She shook her head. "It's not that."

"Well, if it will help in clearing your mind and focusing your attention then yes, what is it you want to talk about?"

She hesitated a moment, as if rethinking her decision to share her thoughts with him. But, finally, she asked, "Do you believe in fate?"

"Fate?" A strange noise came out of Erik's mouth that was supposed to be a laugh of some kind. "I have to believe in fate. How else could I cope with what was so graciously bestowed upon me? But, I also believe that we can shape what fate has initially planned for us." Erik spun around on the bench to face her. "This seems like a very odd and abrupt question, Christine."

"I know." She paused. "Lately I've been plagued with such strange dreams…"

She left the sentence unfinished. Instead, she scoffed and stood, striding to the back of the train car. She moved aside one of the heavy curtains, and opened the window. The passing scenery actually seemed to help organize her thoughts and calm her fluttering heart.

Trying again, Christine said, "This is going to sound like a little girl's silly delusion. My father used to always tell me that the angel of music would rescue me—that my voice would bring him to me. The dreams I have been having have all been based around this idea of an angel of music. The only reason I can come up with as to why I am suddenly having these dreams is that it's finally happened. I believe that you must be my angel of music. You are helping me with my craft, after all, and know so much."

Christine turned slowly to face Erik. She could see a struggle occurring internally with him. She was a bit nervous at first that he was going to laugh at her. Instead, he ended up shaking his head, running a gloved hand over his dark hair.

"I must say that this would certainly be the first time anyone has called me an angel," Erik mused, frowning.

"Erik, please, I'm being serious," she insisted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I know that I don't know anything about you, but you are taking it upon yourself to teach me and help me to grow. I would describe any individual willing to do that as angelic. I know that the idea of an angel of music had never been literal. I suppose I just never knew what to expect until we began these lessons."

Erik stood and moved awkwardly toward her. It was obvious he wasn't used to deep discussions. "You have real talent, Christine. I'm just teaching you how to hone it and use it properly," Erik explained, a little defensively.

"And it means the world to me," Christine breathed, rushing forward a few steps.

She hadn't even realized, but it brought her directly in front of him. Her breath caught in her throat, surprised at the proximity. He equally stared at her, unsure of what to do. He brought a hand haltingly up, as if to touch her. His hand hovered inches from her cheek before he dropped his arm and quickly spun around.

"Let's get back to work," Erik muttered angrily.

Christine blinked a couple of times, catching her breath. She wasn't entirely sure what just happened, but it still sat uncomfortably in the pit of her stomach.

"Wh-what's wrong, Erik?" she whispered. "You can barely look at me. Do you think me that ridiculous?"

He shook his head furiously. "Never!"

Christine put a hand gently on his arm. He violently wrenched his arm free, knocking her off balance and into the side of the train car. He paused momentarily, as if considering what he had done, but then sat down roughly on the bench in front of his organ.

Christine picked herself up. She was at a loss as to what had happened. She patted out her long skirt and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear that had fallen loose from the bun on the back of her head.

"Go," Erik ordered. "We're done for today. Besides, we'll be at our stop shortly, and I'm certain you'll want to stretch your legs with that animal handler."

Christine opened her mouth to say something. There was a lot on her mind—perhaps too much. Unable to actually utter anything, she closed her mouth and exited the car without another sound.

xXx

"Thank you, Raoul, really," Christine said again. "My father will be so happy that he won't have to leave the car every time either of us needs to change outfits."

The train had pulled into a small station in order to refill supplies and allow the passengers to stretch their legs. It had been an hour since they had stopped, and the managers were looking to continue on shortly. Most of the people had gotten back onto the train and prepared for departure, except for a couple stragglers.

"I'm surprised you didn't ask sooner," Raoul said, smiling. "Meg came to me nearly the first day to tell me that you would be in need of a privacy screen."

Christine shook her head, laughing. "I suppose I wanted to get to know you better. I'm not used to asking or even being offered favors."

"Don't tell me you've been keeping me company this entire time just to get your very own privacy screen," Raoul jested.

"Believe it or not," she responded between giggles, "I have actually come to enjoy your company."

Raoul stopped next to the train, pulling on her arm to halt her, as well. She swung around to face him.

"Would it be wrong of me to inquire more deeply into that statement?" he whispered in all seriousness. "Should I even dream that you might feel for me even a token of what I feel for you?"

This caught Christine off guard. "Raoul-" she started, but wasn't entirely sure where she meant to head with her statement.

Raoul took one of her hands in his. "I don't mean to make you uncomfortable, Christine. I just wish for you to know how much you mean to me. It is difficult for me to know if I am being too forward with my emotions. You are a mystery."

Christine touched Raoul's cheek tenderly. "You are much sweeter than you let on, you know. I don't mean to cause you agony, Raoul, but I'm not used to such attention. I've had to remain shut off from people most of my life. Give me some more time."

"I will give you all of the time in the world," Raoul cooed. His hands went up to her shoulders, which he grabbed without much force.

Christine winced, causing him to take a cautionary step backward.

"Christine?" he asked unsurely.

She smiled, shaking her head. "I apologize. It's not you, Raoul."

"Are you hurt?" he asked, concerned.

"No, I-"

"Christine?" Gustave caught the last part of the conversation, as he approached the train. Madame Giry, whose arm was entwined in his, detached herself, nodded, and went on board. Gustave turned to his daughter. "You're hurt?"

"Father, no," she insisted. "I was just about to tell Raoul. I lost my balance and fell into the train car wall before we stopped. There's really nothing to be concerned about."

Gustave and Raoul exchanged a look. Then Raoul excused himself, stating he would see them on board.

"What was that about?" Christine asked, watching him go.

"It was that…Raoul and I chatted, just like you wanted. He is really a wonderful young man, Christine," Gustave told her. "But, he also informed me of your new…tutor."

"Oh? You would be quite interested in the lessons as well, father," she said, unsure of where the conversation was headed.

"I'm not comfortable with these lessons, Christine," he said obstinately. "I don't want your rendezvous to continue. I'm going to speak to the managers as soon as we get underway, but I am certain that they can find another way to improve upon your voice."

"I don't understand where this is coming from," Christine said, aghast. "I thought you always dreamed of an opportunity like this for me."

"I have, my darling, and I want you to flourish. But, to do that, you must listen to me. These lessons must stop."

"He's my angel of music!" Christine insisted. She had taken a step away from her father. "You always told me that one day I would be visited by the angel of music, and it has finally happened."

"Christine, he is not what he seems," Gustave said. "And, I will not have you put in the way of potential danger."

"You have no idea what you are talking about," Christine said. "Do what you will, but the managers won't hear of it. I promise you that. You can't keep me sheltered and shut off from the world forever."

She climbed aboard the train and made away to find Meg to vent to, completely intending not to speak to her father for the rest of the journey.


	13. One Dark Night

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** QueenoftheNight82 : Of course! Scales! I will have to use that in the next lesson we see. I expect it in the next chapter or two. Thank you for the suggestion and help!

As for this chapter, this was one I had in mind for a while. It may be a little shocker, but it's about time we start heading places. I believe everything will be explained toward the end of this story, though I don't know how much will actually come directly out. For now, though, prepare yourselves. I hope you enjoy.

 **Chapter 13 – One Dark Night**

"How are your lessons, Christine?" Meg asked, finishing her dinner.

The two girls sat at one of the tables in the dining car. They had been witness to the sunset as they had eaten their meal. Most of the other diners had already gone, though a few still remained besides the girls.

Christine stared down into her tea with little interest. "It's going quite well, actually," she responded. "I've been learning quite a lot. It is hard to believe that we'll be at our destination by the morning, but I suppose that the managers will want these little lessons to continue in between shows."

"They said it should be at some point in the middle of the night, but obviously we won't actually settle in until the morning. I am quite curious to see where we will be stationed at," Meg mused. "Such secrecy!" She giggled.

"I wouldn't get too excited, Meg," Christine told. "I would hate to see you disappointed when we arrive to another ordinary patch of dirt."

"Christine, you are very much not yourself," Meg said with a frown. "What has got you in such a poor mood?"

Christine sighed. "Yesterday, during our short stopover, my father and I shared some words. It isn't like my father and I to disagree. But, Meg, he was so adamant!"

"What did you quarrel about?"

"He isn't comfortable with these voice lessons. He wouldn't say exactly why, but he would not budge on the fact that he didn't want me to continue. He was even going to go to the managers about it."

"Has he done so? Did he speak to the managers about it?"

Christine shook her head. "I can't be certain. We haven't spoken since that encounter. But, I can't believe that he has yet. Or, if he has, I would assume that he wasn't able to get anywhere with his complaints."

"The managers are quite insistent with their orders," Meg said, quieter than usual. "I doubt they would heed any words that go against their wishes." She hesitated a moment then continued. "But, I thought I saw Monsieur Firmin making his way to the back of the train just before supper today. Of course, he could have been going to check on something in one of the storage cars. But, I've never really seen him make his way toward the back of the train, especially while it is still in motion."

"Do you think he went to speak with my tutor after our lesson had finished?" Christine asked, scooting to the edge of her seat.

"It is possible. Maybe your father got through to them somehow."

Christine's eyes darted across the room to where her father chatted with Madame Giry. They were casually sipping on some tea. "Maybe…" Christine trailed off, her thoughts traveling away from that table.

However, Meg called her back. "The relationship you have with your father, though, Christine, is something to be admired. I wish I could tell my mother anything and everything."

"You two seem awfully close. Surely you would feel comfortable enough sharing your secrets with her."

"It is true," Meg said, "that we are closer than other mothers and daughters. She is the only family I know. Well, other than you-know-who now. But, I get so nervous just thinking about telling my mother about Philippe and me."

"You will be so relieved once you do tell her, though," Christine urged. "It isn't right to keep something like this a secret from your mother. She ought to know, Meg."

"I know. I suppose I just have to muster the courage to tell her one of these days."

"Well, hopefully that day will be sooner rather than later," Christine said with a smile. She touched Meg's hand gently, understandingly. "I know sometimes it is difficult to confide in our parents, but they love us unconditionally. Your mother will understand." She laughed lightly. "She may be upset at first that it took you this long to tell her, but she will understand eventually."

Meg sighed. "I'll have to consider it, but for now I must insist that we still keep it a secret. You will do that for me, won't you, Christine?"

"Of course, Meg," Christine said. "I would never betray your trust."

Meg smiled. "I knew this the moment I first met you." She leaned in closer, to whisper. Though nobody else could hear their conversation, since they were being awfully quiet to begin with, this part seemed just a bit more guarded than the rest. "I am to meet Philippe later on tonight. It isn't often that we have time to spend alone together. There are too many prying eyes, after all."

"Just be careful, whatever you do," Christine warned. "With how dark it is at night, and with how much the train sways, you must be sure to watch your footing."

"That is very true," Meg agreed. "I don't know if anyone told you this, but we used to have a musician before your father was hired. One night he was wandering about the train, while we were on our way to our next destination. He must have lost his balance or missed his footing, as you suggested just now, and he fell. Christine, it was terrible."

"What happened?"

"Nobody knew until the following day. The train was stopped and most of the crew retraced the railroad tracks to find him." Meg paused for dramatic effect. "Needless to say, he was dead when they found him. Philippe would only tell me a little bit of the scene. He didn't think it appropriate that I would be so interested to know what the poor fellow looked like after such a tragedy. To put it simply, though, they could only recognize him by the ridiculous jacket he always wore."

"But that's horrible!" Christine gasped. "I never dreamed that my prompt for caution was based on an actual event."

Meg waved a dismissive hand. "As I said, though, it was a while ago, before you two got here. It just serves as an example for the rest of us to proceed with caution when the train is in motion. I appreciate your concern, Christine."

Christine looked out the window and to the darkening sky. "I better be going. I'd like to be asleep before my father returns to our car."

"Isn't this all so inconvenient for you, Christine?" Meg asked.

She smiled sadly. "Truthfully, yes. And, it has put a great burden on my heart. I love my father, but I can't relent on this, Meg. His suspicions are unfounded. He has to learn that he cannot keep me guarded my entire life."

"Understandable. Well, perhaps in another day or two everything will work itself out."

"Thank you, Meg. And, good night." Christine stood and, glancing back one last time at her father, she exited the dining car.

After having made her way back to the train car that she called home these days, Christine set about getting changed into her nightgown. She knew it wasn't polite to avoid her father, as she was doing, but she couldn't bear to speak to him at the moment. Once they stopped at their destination she was certain everything would get cleared up.

Christine opened one of the windows just a crack to let in some fresh air. She brushed her hair, using the glow of the candlelight against the window as her mirror, and hummed a little song to herself.

She hated being at odds with her father, but she simply could not relent on this. There had been no warning or explanation as to her father's objections with her lessons. In fact, when it had been first announced, he had been completely supportive. She didn't know what to think. Something had gotten into him, and she could not wrap her mind around what.

She knew that her father only ever had her best interests at heart. They had been relying solely upon one another for a very long time. Perhaps it was the environment that had altered his opinion. Perhaps he was afraid of losing his little girl forever. It could be a deep-rooted fear of being alone. However, she doubted it was this latter explanation.

Though she was all he had left, after her mother had passed away and all, he still managed to be quite social. Christine saw him in the company of Madame Giry a lot, and the two appeared to get along very well. She had some hope that perhaps he might find a romantic interest. She had never seen him with a female friend before, but it seemed to bode well.

She laughed to herself. Her fancies were getting a little out of hand. She supposed that any normal daughter would be aghast if her father showed signs of being romantically interested in a woman that wasn't her mother. Christine just wanted to see him happy.

She told herself, as she put away her hair brush, that in the morning she would make an effort to connect with her father on their disagreement. She couldn't stand not speaking to him. She would try to make him understand, or at least explain himself. She loved her father, and she would be damned if she let anything stand between the two of them after coming this far.

Christine crawled under the blankets on her cot. With a small smile fueled by the determination she now had to mend the relationship with her father, she leaned over and blew out the candle, drenching the car in the thick darkness that the night brought on.

Christine awoke to a motionless train. Sunlight penetrated the curtains and splashed through the interior of the train car. She yawned and swung her legs over the side of the mattress.

The first thing she noticed after rubbing the sleep from her eyes was that her father's cot appeared to not have been used the previous night. It was just as he had left it the previous morning. He always stretched the sheets and blanket tightly over the mattress for a very clean look.

"He must have already risen," Christine said to herself.

She picked out her periwinkle frock, as she knew that there would be some unloading to do. She tamed her hair into a single braid to keep out of her face during the manual labor. She laced up her boots and grabbed her cloak. The physical work would surely warm everyone up, but for now she wanted the comfort.

Satisfied, and certain her father would meet her off the train, she left the train car.

Most everyone was already loitering just off of the train. Raoul waved Christine over. Holding her cloak tightly about her frame, she went to his side.

"We are to unload before they present to us a grand meal," Raoul said right away. "We should get underway as soon as everyone is off of the train."

"They really know how to put their priorities first," Christine joked.

Meg and Madame Giry stepped down from the train. There were two crew members walking through the train, knocking on doors, and ensuring that everyone was off. Meg appeared much more tired than usual. Christine could only determine that Meg's midnight date with Philippe had gone well.

Christine glanced within the crowd of people. She noted Philippe standing a little further back, watching Meg intently. Then she started searching for her father. She stood on her tiptoes to peer around, through, and over people. But, she wasn't having any luck locating him.

"That's everyone," one of the men called, hopping off the train.

"Thank you for your patience, everyone," Monsieur André announced. "We can begin now in an orderly fashion."

"Wait a moment!" Christine called. But everyone seemed to continue to move slowly forward to the cars that held the sets and animals. Christine tugged on Raoul's arm. "Raoul, wait. My father, I don't see him anywhere. He may still be on the train."

Raoul skipped ahead of everyone and held his hands out, as if to prevent them from moving forward. "Wait a moment, everyone. Monsieur Daaé is not with us. It is possible he is still on the train. If so, we don't want to potentially injure him."

"Right you are," Monsieur Firmin agreed. "Let's do one more sweep. It's possible he is just stretching his legs."

Christine waited impatiently as the two men resumed their sweep of the train. The more time went by, the more nervous she got. She didn't believe for a moment that he had taken a stroll to stretch his legs. She knew he wouldn't wander away without at least telling someone. Raoul noticed how antsy she was getting, and returned to her side and wrapped an arm around her.

When the two men came back into view, Christine's heart fell. She looked up at Raoul with large eyes dotted with tears.

"Raoul?" she asked pathetically.

"Wait here," he whispered.

Raoul broke away and headed toward the front of the group again with a few others from the crowd. Christine couldn't hear what they were saying or knew what they were doing. Meg rushed to Christine's side and tried turning her away.

With an arm wrapped around Christine, Meg pivoted away from the small group of men forming. "Come along, Christine. Let me get you a cup of tea while we wait for your father," she said gently.

Christine didn't respond at all. As she was led away, she glanced over her shoulder and saw the small search party depart down the tracks.

xXx

It was twilight when the search party finally returned.

Christine rushed up to Raoul, who held her steady. "Well?" she asked, though the crestfallen look on his face was not reassuring.

"I-I don't know how to tell you, Christine," he began, haltingly. "There was an unfortunate accident. He must have lost his footing in the darkness and fallen. I am so very sorry."

Christine wasn't sure she heard him right, but she couldn't find the words. She couldn't find any words. Her vision was disappearing. Her head was swimming. Her breath caught in her throat, and she felt herself reeling.

Then, darkness.


	14. To Live Again

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** Sadly, yes, Gustave has died. I know it may seem kind of pointless to have brought him on board, at all, but I actually this idea in mind from the beginning. I think his presence has helped and will help to shape things. I enjoyed the relationship that Christine and Gustave had. I may delve into their past a bit more in some flashback scenes or dreams.

I may end up speeding some things up a bit. I do want to make sure that everything is given appropriate time, but I don't like to drag things out. Therefore, certain things may be a little glossed over, while other things may be given more detail. I apologize if this confuses or upsets some people. Please let me know if there are certain things that you wish explained a bit more or touched on in more detail, and I can definitely see what I can do. But, I will make sure to give enough time for the important things.

 **Chapter 14 – To Live Again**

It had been nearly a week since Gustave's body had been found. Le Spectacle des Merveilles had been running nightly shows for a few days. All of the performers had returned to work, except for Christine.

Raoul had caught her as she had fainted on the day she heard of her father's death. They had kept her comfortable until the train cars could be moved. Then they returned her to her cot. All of Gustave's personal items had been removed the next day, so as not to alarm her as she woke. They even took out his cot to offer her more space, but upon her insistence, his violin was left.

Christine was in and out of sleep over the few days she remained in bed. Half of the time she was awake she was in tears and the other half she stared stoically at the floor or the ceiling. People would come in to check on her and bring her meals. Meg was present once while she was awake. Meg had talked and talked, despite Christine not issuing any sort of response. She even saw Madame Giry sitting by her side. This was an instance where Christine hadn't wanted to speak or eat. She had just stared blankly at the ceiling and Madame Giry had allowed her to. More often than not, though, when she opened her eyes, Raoul was the one by her side.

Christine groggily opened her eyes. She was disoriented. Her body felt heavy. Despite having just woken, she was exhausted. She could have fallen right back into a deep slumber if she would have just closed her eyes. But, she willed herself to remain awake.

She stared at the floor, her face completely emotionless.

She couldn't help herself from remembering. The worst thing possible had happened days ago. Her father had been discovered dead. She hadn't been able to apologize to him before the event. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been to be so upset at her father over something that seemed so trivial now.

A tear rolled down her cheek. She didn't bother to wipe it away. Her eyes stung from an overabundance of crying. Now she just felt empty.

"You're awake again," a voice said quietly from the front of the car.

Christine rolled over on her cot and looked toward where the voice issued from. Raoul was seated a little ways away.

He picked up a glass of water and moved closer to her. He sat down on the edge of the mattress and offered the cup to her.

"Drink some water," he insisted.

Christine tried to sit up, and was instantly hit in the head with a wave of dizziness. Her hand flew to her temple, as if it would help the migraine to subside.

Raoul placed his other hand delicately on her back. "Be careful. You may feel a little weak."

She shifted into a sitting position, placing her back against the side of the train car. She took a gulp of the water. The liquid felt refreshing and cool sliding down her throat.

"Thank you," she said a little hoarsely. Her voice sounded foreign to her ears. It was dry and unsteady, but the water helped.

Raoul took the glass from her and set it aside.

"Christine," he said carefully, "do you remember everything that has happened? You've been in and out of sleep this entire time."

She nodded absently, her eyes darting away.

Raoul placed a comforting hand on Christine's. "I can't possibly imagine what you are feeling right now, Christine. But, please know that you can confide in me. I am right here for you, whatever you need."

She forced a smile onto her lips to show how grateful she was. "Thank you, Raoul. That alone means more than I can say." She paused. "I just…I don't know what to do. I can't even believe…" She didn't have the strength to finish.

She stopped mid-sentence as her throat began to tighten with emotion.

"You don't have to say it, Christine," Raoul soothed. "You don't even have to think it. Let me look after you. Let me help you and support you. You don't have to be alone."

"You've been so kind to me since we first got here," Christine mused. "I have no way to repay you, Raoul. But, I appreciate your kindness more than anything. I'm happy that you were able to speak with my father before…the incident…"

"I think there is something I should tell you about that conversation, Christine," he said carefully. "Your father was a splendid man. I can't say I've known better. We spoke together regarding you, mostly, but then something else came up. We had another accident some time ago that was quite similar to what just happened."

Christine bit her lip. Rehashing everything was a bit draining, but she was curious where this was headed. "Yes, I believe Meg told me that story. It was quite horrid to hear."

"I was a member of the party that found him," Raoul recalled. "When I say that the incidents were quite similar, I mean to say that they seem to be identical. I told your father of this story, and then the same fate meets him. It is an unheard of coincident, in my opinion."

Christine swallowed. "Well, it seems like it might be a possibility one has to be cautious of when traversing the train at night. I'll admit that this is the first time we have ever traveled by train, so my father was new to the motion the train can take. I don't really know how else the two incidents could be similar."

Raoul nodded. "I see." He chuckled a little uncomfortably. "I suppose we should leave it all in the past. I don't want any of this to burden you any longer."

"I noticed Meg in here earlier," Christine said, changing the subject. "Where has she gone off to?"

"It is probably difficult to tell since you've been in here so long, but there is a show occurring right now," Raoul told her. "It is late at night, I am afraid. The circus opened a couple of days ago."

"Of course," Christine breathed. "Shouldn't you be out there to assist with the horses?"

"Philippe is handling everything at the moment," Raoul said. "One of us wanted to stay with you."

"I feel terrible enough that everyone has been fussing over me this entire time. I can't ask you to stay with me, Raoul, and for Philippe to take on the burden of running everything in your stead. You should really go help him."

"Christine," Raoul breathed, sending her a cautious expression. He squeezed her hand a little tighter.

"I think I am doing better now, Raoul, really," she assured. "I don't know if I could cry more even if I wanted to. I'm really just tired, that's all."

Raoul studied her sincere eyes. Then he kissed her hand. "As you wish, Christine. But, if there is anything at all, and I mean anything, please don't hesitate to come find me. I shall come back as soon as I can."

He kissed her hand one more time then left the train car.

Alone, Christine allowed her smile to fade and any sort of excitement to disappear from the car. She absorbed the silence, though every now and then it was interrupted by some gasps of excitement from outside. She didn't know what to do with herself. She could lie back down and slumber once more. It would be nice to drift off into unfeeling unconsciousness. But, there was something resisting against the temptation.

She stared at her father's side of the cabin. It was eerily void of any material objects, despite that violin case. Her eyes remained locked on that case.

Finally, she got up, her legs shaky at first, and walked over to it. She sat on the ground and pulled the case in front of her. She opened it, revealing Gustave's most prized violin. She ran her fingers delicately over the wood and strings.

She didn't know how to play the instrument, but it seemed like such a waste to have it sit idle. Her father would be disgraced if no one were to ever produce beautiful music on it again. He would want it to go to someone with the same passion for music—someone who could appreciate its craftsmanship as much as he had.

Christine closed the lid. She stood up, her legs getting used to her bodyweight again. She had been changed into her nightgown the day she had fainted so that she would be more comfortable. She hadn't switched her clothing since. Now, she threw on her easiest and most comfortable frock. She secured her cloak over her shoulders.

With the violin case clutched close to her body, Christine ventured outside. The fresh air felt good. It filled her lungs and woke her up. She could hear some of the crowd's exclamations, but her train car had been positioned away from the main thoroughfare through the tents.

She glanced around to get her bearings. She was looking for a specific train car. Not knowing how everything had been set up, though, made it difficult to find her way in the dark. Luckily, she knew that this one would have been positioned further from the others, in the back or out of the way somewhere.

She walked around the outskirts of the perimeter, and spied the car she was looking for. A light flickered inside, which was promising. She knew that the person she was looking for could only be in so many places.

Christine knocked on the door to the train car.

It took a moment, but then the door swung open. Christine stared up into the white porcelain mask without flinching. Erik appeared surprised to see her on his doorstep. There was a lengthy pause where he took in her presence and decided the best response.

"Christine," was all he could manage at first.

"May I come in? I won't be long," she said.

"Of course."

He opened the door wider and stepped aside so she could enter. Then, peering about outside to ensure there were no watchful eyes, he closed the door.

Christine walked into the middle of the room, but kept her back to him. She stared down at the case in her hands.

"I didn't expect you to be up and walking around," Erik began. "H-How are you?" His voice shook a little bit, but she was used to the delicate touch that everyone was giving her now.

"I apologize for my absence from our lessons," she said instead, changing the topic immediately.

"Christine, stop." Erik sighed. "This isn't why you're here."

"You're right. It isn't." Christine turned around and held out the violin case. "This is for you."

Erik looked suspiciously at the gift. "Why?"

"I-It was my father's," Christine told him softly. "I don't know how to play it, and I don't want it to go unused. You were the only one I could think of that would respect it and make use of it."

She opened the case and showed off the violin inside. Erik drew nearer, his eyes fixated on the instrument. Carefully, he drew it from its case and held it up delicately to get a good look at it.

"You're giving this to me, Christine?" he breathed in disbelief.

"Please accept it. I-I don't know what else to do with it," she revealed.

He nodded. "Of course. I'll take good care of it."

He placed it back in the case, closed it, and took it from her. He looked around for a good place to store it.

"I think that we should resume our lessons," Christine said after momentary silence. "My father wanted me to grow as a singer, and to realize my dream. This is the only way I see of possibly doing that."

"Are you positive you are ready?"

She shrugged. "I have to be. I have to do something. He would have wanted me to sing."

Erik stared at her. "Tomorrow then?"

Christine nodded. "I have to start living again. I have so much support from everyone, and I can't keep being a burden. Raoul and Meg have both been by my side."

Erik spun away. "Yes," he said with disdain.

Not noticing, Christine continued, "Raoul is so considerate and attentive. I really don't know what I would do if he wasn't there to hold me up. And Meg has been so genuine since I first met her. She was really the first friend I had here, and it was all her doing. She welcomed me with such open arms that I couldn't refuse. And, I didn't want to." She scoffed and shook her head. "I really don't know what I would do without them."

"How touching," Erik hissed. He pretended that something else-anything else-deserved more attention than the conversation.

"Erik, I see you becoming a friend, as well," Christine told him. "You've already helped me by accepting the violin. I expect to hear lovely music coming from it again. I think that we could all truly get along."

Erik watched her walk over to the door, speechless. She threw it open to depart.

"Christine," Erik called. She turned to look at him. "I really am sorry about your father."

Christine nodded. "Thank you, Erik. I appreciate it." And she closed the door behind her.


	15. Meg's Secret

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** Hello! Welcome any newcomers! I hope you enjoy. We're moving right along here. This is basically the beginning of the last leg of this journey. That isn't to say that this will end in the next chapter or two. In fact, I would expect no less than at least five more chapters, we'll say. There are still points that I need to set up.

I hope that nobody is too heartbroken over this chapter. Everything has its place, and will be revealed.

 **Chapter 15 – Meg's Secret**

"Christine, do you think I could speak to you alone for a moment?" Meg ventured.

Christine glanced back at Raoul and Philippe, who had been entertaining the girls like always, then nodded. "Of course."

It had been a few weeks since Christine had rejoined the functioning world. She had thought at one point that she wouldn't be able to go on without her father, but she seemed to be operating close to her normal levels. Her gaze was perhaps a little more distant and her smile a little emptier now, but she managed to hold a conversation without bursting into tears and wake up each morning without dreading the day.

She had resumed her performances less than a week after she had come back to life—quite unacceptable to ask anyone to do after a tragedy. After a couple of days to warm up her vocals, though, she had been sent right back to work. The managers couldn't allow their star attraction to sit idle on the sidelines for too long. The crowds loved the intensity and emotion in which she performed with now. Her shows had received spectacular reviews before, but now the word was spreading much faster. _Le Spectacle des Merveilles_ was so popular that they had begun to run out of room in the big tent.

Christine followed Meg toward the back end of the large tent. A slew of them were currently inside arranging and cleaning and basically preparing everything for that evening. The managers had started to give each night a different theme, while stationed in the same place. These themes would determine the performances of the night. It would mean alternating decorations, costumes, songs, dances, performances, everything!

They stopped at the back flap, out of earshot of the others.

"Is something the matter, Meg?" Christine asked quietly.

Meg looked down at the ground, her fingers twisting around a golden curl. Christine couldn't say that she ever saw Meg look so torn. She reached out a hand and placed it gently on Meg's arm.

Meg looked up at Christine's small smile, which seemed to make matters worse. "Oh, Christine," Meg gasped. "You put on a brave face, but I know you are still hurting inside. How could you not be?"

Christine nodded, her smile fading and her head bowing. "I don't expect to ever truly heal, but perhaps it won't hurt as much as time goes by."

"You can't be expected to heal, Christine," Meg said. "It is such a travesty, and you are doing so well."

Christine sighed. She didn't like speaking of what had happened or really anything pertaining to her father. She didn't think she could handle thinking about him for a prolonged period of time. She hadn't actually tried it yet. Part of her acceptance was to actually dwell on what had happened as little as possible.

"Meg, was this everything you wanted to talk to me about?" Christine asked with little patience.

Meg noticed this and blushed a little. "No…Well, yes…Or…" She sighed, frustrated. "Christine, it does have to do with what…happened."

"What do you mean?"

Meg hesitated. "I didn't know whether or not to tell you because I don't know if I really saw anything. But, you remember how I was out late with Philippe the night that…it happened?"

Christine nodded.

"I can't really be sure, which is why I am so hesitant to bring it up, but I think I may have saw something that night," Meg ventured carefully. "Something that has to do with your father."

Christine didn't know what to say. She shook her head, confused at first. "You think you saw something? What could you have seen, Meg? What do you mean?"

"Well that's just it. I don't know." Meg crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. "This is why I didn't even want to bring this up in the first place, but it was just eating away at me. I didn't want to get your hopes up or confuse you or anything of the sort. But…"

Christine grasped Meg by the shoulders. "Meg, you can say. It's alright."

"Christine, I really shouldn't have said anything," Meg whined. "I'm so sorry. It was nothing. Just the shadows, I'm sure."

"Really, it's alright," Christine reassured. "Please, just tell me what it is you think you saw or you didn't see. I-I want to know. You can't stay silent now."

Meg stared into Christine's eyes, really trying to decide whether or not to say anything. Christine tried to appear as reassuring and encouraging as possible. Really, she was just eager to hear what Meg had to say. She didn't know why her heart was pounding so hard. She didn't know what she expected to hear.

Meg sighed again, relenting. "I shall," she grabbed Christine's hands, "but I need you to keep a steady head when I tell you. Please, keep in mind, I am quite unsure I actually saw anything at all. I am only proceeding because you are my best friend, Christine."

Christine nodded. "I'm prepared."

"Philippe and I had met in the car where the horses are kept stabled. I left first. I had just exited the car when I thought I saw a shadow passing overhead."

"A shadow?"

Meg nodded carefully. "At the time, it seemed to be more of a silhouette."

Christine hesitated then said in a measure of disbelief, "Do you mean to say it was a silhouette of a person that you saw, Meg?"

"It was dark, mind you," Meg said quickly. "But, I thought I saw more than a silhouette. I think I caught a glimpse of a face of someone moving about in the night."

"D-Do you know who it was? Did you recognize the person?"

Meg hesitated then nodded once. "You said you wouldn't get excited, Christine," Meg responded quietly. "Keep in mind that I can't be positive about what I saw. It was dark and the train was moving so fast. It was only for a moment, really, but I think I did catch a glimpse."

"You must tell me, Meg. I need to know if it wasn't an accident after all," Christine pleaded. "The managers need to know. Please."

After a momentary pause, Meg reluctantly went on slowly. "I thought that in that moment I had caught sight of-"

"Meg!" Madame Giry called. She was hurrying over. "Meg, dear. Are you trying to get out of helping?"

Meg dropped Christine's hands and turned to her mother. She shook her head. "No, mama. I really wasn't."

Madame Giry smiled and brushed some of Meg's hair off of her shoulder. "You really shouldn't be over here while everyone else is working. It sets a bad image. You understand, _mon cher_ , don't you?"

Meg nodded. "Of course I do, mama."

She glanced back at Christine apologetically as she was dragged off by her mother.

"We'll finish our talk later, Christine."

Christine stared after Meg. Her heart was still racing. She wanted to know who Meg thought she had seen. For whatever reason, it really gave hope to her that her father hadn't been alone on that evening.

Raoul approached her once the Girys had departed.

"What is it that Meg wanted to tell you?" he asked curiously.

Christine shook her head. "I can't really say."

"Is it some big secret?" Raoul teased.

But, Christine didn't smile. She continued to stare after Meg. "I believe that it actually might be. It might be a bigger secret than either of us really know."

xXx

The following morning, Christine rose at a decent hour. She could hear some chatter outside, but it was mostly distant. She took her time prepping herself to join the rest of the world. She often took a moment in the morning to stare out the window and reflect. It helped her function throughout the course of the day.

She stepped into a skirt and buttoned up a blouse. She brushed out her chocolate curls and let them hang free, cascading down her back. She took a last look around the empty train car, for her own items took up less than half of the space, and exited the train car.

She trailed the voices, and broke off into the big tent to find Philippe and Raoul sitting in the stands and relaxing. She walked up to join them, and took a seat next to Raoul.

"Welcome to the de Chagny café, mademoiselle," Philippe greeted, as she slid onto the bench. "Perhaps, mademoiselle would care for some nourishment this fine morning. We have tea and…" he looked about in an exaggerated manner, though the little thermos and stack of cups was clearly the only thing visible on the bench next to them, "tea."

Christine smiled. "Tea sounds lovely, thank you."

Philippe poured some tea into the empty teacup and handed it to her. She didn't partake of much in the morning since the accident. Usually a cup of tea did the trick to wake her up. She took a sip.

"That's delicious," she said. "I shall have to dine here more often. Who knew such a place existed?"

Raoul and Philippe appeared amused.

"Sit down," Raoul told his brother.

"So, Christine," Philippe started, "have you seen or heard from Meg at all this morning yet?"

Christine shook her head. "I can't say if she is even awake yet. I haven't seen her since the end of the show last night. She said she was going to wash her face and then I never saw her after that. I would think if anyone had heard from her it would have been you."

Philippe nodded. "I thought that she would at least have shown her face before going to sleep, but perhaps she was in a state of exhaustion. I don't think we've ever had such big crowds as we have had lately."

"Have you ever seen her show any ebb in her energy?" Christine asked skeptically.

Both Philippe and Raoul appeared skeptical, as well.

"Philippe!"

The call came very suddenly. It sounded rather distant at first, but the next one was much closer.

"Philippe!"

There were some rapid footfalls with the approaching voice.

"Philippe!" Meg called as she burst into the tent. Her large eyes, stained with tears, darted about before falling onto Philippe, who was already out of his seat in a small panic. "Oh, Philippe!"

"Meg? What's the matter?" he asked.

She ran into his arms, and he embraced her whole-heartedly. "Oh, Philippe!" she cried into his chest. "She knows."

"What?"

"She knows. My mother knows."

"But, how?" Philippe's mouth dropped open, aghast.

Christine and Raoul had descended the stands to join the other two in the time of need. Everyone present knew exactly what Meg meant: Madame Giry had found out about Meg and Philippe. It didn't seem possible or likely even, as those present were the only ones that knew of the secret relationship.

"Th-there was a note," Meg said between sobs. Tears were starting to stream down her face. "She is so upset, Philippe." She shook her head.

"Oh, Meg!" Christine gasped. "She has to come around."

Meg detached herself from Philippe. Almost mechanically, her expression flat, she closed the distance to stand directly in front of Christine. Then, quite unexpectedly, she drew a hand back and slapped Christine across the face.

Immediately, the tears began to fall down Meg's cheeks again. Her expression held one of sorrow and anger.

"Meg!"

It was three voices rolled into one. The exclamation came from Raoul, Philippe, and Madame Giry, who had just walked in on the scene.

Christine grasped her throbbing cheek. She was more overcome with surprise than anything else. She stared back at her friend with mouth and eyes wide with shock.

"Meg," she whispered.

"It's all your fault," Meg blamed.

"Meg!" Madame Giry chastised again. "Get back here right now, and get away from that man!"

"I love him, mother," Meg declared. "You can't change that. We have been husband and wife for some time now, and you can't change that, no matter who tries to ruin everything."

At this last part, Meg wheeled on Christine and gave her the most awful glare. Christine had to take a step backward to recover.

"Meg, what are you talking about?" Christine asked.

"Stop playing innocent, Christine," Meg sobbed. "You completely betrayed me, and I won't ever forgive you for it." She threw a crumpled up piece of paper at Christine. It bounced off and fell to the ground.

Meg ran past her mother and out of the tent. Madame Giry wasn't far behind, but she opted for long strides instead of a sprint.

Christine looked over at Philippe, not knowing what to say. Her mouth hung dumbly open. Philippe looked at her then back to where Meg had just fled from. There was pain and confusion in his expression. He glanced at Christine and Raoul again then took off after Meg and her mother.

Raoul bent down and retrieved the piece of paper. He flattened it out and glanced over its contents.

Christine didn't know what to say or do. She took a couple of unsteady steps forward, as if wanting to follow and make amends. But, then she stopped. After a moment, she whirled around toward Raoul. There were tears welling up in her eyes. They consisted of a mixture of shock, confusion, and utter sadness.

"Raoul," she breathed. She shook her head. "I-I don't know what just…" But she couldn't even finish the sentence, as she lost her breath to a deep sob.

"I think I do," Raoul said.

He offered the piece of parchment to Christine. She took it and looked over its contents. Her eyes scanned the handwriting, nothing really sticking or mattering. It was her name signed at the bottom of the letter that made her breath catch in her throat.

It was a letter revealing the secret relationship to its full extent. And, at the end of all of it was her name, indicating her as the culprit behind the reveal.

"Raoul, I-I didn't write this," she whispered. "You have to believe me."

He looked a little unsure. He glanced back down at the letter.

"It doesn't make sense why you would sign your name at the bottom and alert everyone that it was you," Raoul thought aloud.

"It wasn't me at all," she insisted. "I would never do this."

He looked back up at her. "I know you wouldn't. But…does anybody else know?"

Christine shook her head, feeling completely crushed and defeated. "Not that I know of, but this isn't even my handwriting."

"What?"

"Raoul," she started, a tear rolling down her cheek, "why would someone want to make it look like I'm the one to blame?"


	16. A Curse or a Blessing

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** Hello everyone! Sorry it took so long to update. I actually went back and forth several times deciding how I wanted Erik to handle this conversation and how to start to bring certain things to light. I hope this works.

 **Chapter 16 – A Curse or a Blessing**

Despite a passionate performance, Christine knew as soon as the song ended that she was about to be chastised. Sure enough, Erik spun around on the bench to face her. A frown was visible beneath the white porcelain mask. Spotting it, Christine bowed her head, disappointed in herself, but also concerned with other matters occurring at the same time.

"Christine," Erik said sternly, "I don't know what troubles you, but you must learn to either use that to your advantage or detach yourself from it. It is much too apparent that you are distracted. Your performances are wonderful, yes, but they could be so much more."

Christine stood up and slowly wandered over to the back door of Erik's train car. She gently held aside the drapery to peer at the world outside. Noticing this, Erik stopped in his criticism.

"I do apologize, Erik," Christine told him distantly. "You have dedicated so much time and effort into me and I just can't seem to please you. I shall try harder to push myself beyond your expectations, but lately my life just seems to be in ruins. It's been two weeks and Meg still won't speak to me."

"I thought that you two had been quite close since the beginning," Erik muttered. He pretended to divert his attention elsewhere because of the sensitive subject matter.

"That's correct. Meg and I got on right from the get go, but…" She trailed off and scoffed. "I can't really say, to be honest. But, she believes I revealed her deepest secret."

"Regarding that labor hand?" Erik asked dismissively.

Christine turned around and stared. "Yes, exactly." She shook her head. "How…"

"Word gets around, as you must know" he said with a wave of his hand.

"I suppose it does." Christine walked casually back into the room. "I can't help feeling that there is something wrong with me. First, my father…" and here she paused to steady herself, "and now Meg. I believe I am losing everyone close to me. The only thing I can think of at this point is that there is some sort of curse on me."

"You aren't cursed Christine," Erik told her. "In fact, you should regard this more as a blessing. People are fickle, and will only ever disappoint you in the end. I hope you can see that now, and will grow from this."

She was thrown off by this. She didn't know what she had been expecting, but it wasn't this.

"I don't know if I can really see it the same way," Christine admitted.

"I suppose you wouldn't have the experience that I have," Erik said. His tone was getting harsher as he recalled his own experiences. "Trust me when I say you are better off. This will make you more resilient and offer emotions to draw from for your performances."

Christine lingered near her seat. "Life isn't all about my performances, Erik. Yes, I want to be a great singer someday, but I don't expect success to come at the cost of friends or a personal life. I think having a negative view of relationships is more of a hindrance."

Erik whipped around to face her. "You know nothing, Christine! Your voice is everything. You are so fresh and different from anything out there, but you don't know how to harness it. You will have to draw from everything from your past to shine. I will help you reach your goal. I will be right beside you, coaching you and teaching you. I will hone your voice into what this world needs. You don't need anyone else to get in the way. You can rely on me."

Christine stared at Erik. She felt the flicker of something in her heart, but couldn't be sure what it was. Truthfully, she didn't know Erik so well. Though they had their lessons on an almost consistent daily basis, they hardly spoke at all on a personal level. Christine would indulge at times when she needed someone to listen, but she hardly knew Erik at all.

She had been quite unsure with his initial conversation, but she was pleased to hear of his loyalty. It could very well have been because Meg had stepped out of her life, but she had gotten used to Erik being a part of her life now. She believed what he said.

"That is actually quite a comfort to hear," Christine said softly. "I know you are dedicated to helping me train my voice, but I'd like to think that your words are on a deeper level that is very much like friendship. Perhaps I am overzealous in my thinking that we have obtained that level in our relationship-"

"Of course," Erik said quickly, cutting her off. "I mean, of course that's how it should be taken. That's how I meant it. We are…" here he paused momentarily, as if trying to pronounce a foreign a word, "friends, aren't we?"

"We are," Christine assured.

A rap upon the door interrupted their session, whatever it had turned into. Erik's face fell, as this had been a perfect opportunity for them to connect and build on their relationship. He stalked to the door, obviously upset. It was rare that someone would be calling on him.

He threw open the door, demanding, "What do you want?"

Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André were standing at the door. One wore a puzzled look and the other an expectant one.

"We've come for our meeting," Monsieur Firmin announced.

"You're early," Erik hissed.

The train car was quite small, and Christine was able to hear everything that was being said, no matter how quiet they were being. She picked up her cloak and joined the others.

"I can go," she cut in. "Really, you all have something to discuss, so we can cut today's lesson short."

Erik looked at Christine and shook his head. "No, they can wait."

Christine reached out and touched his arm ever so gently. "It's no bother. We'll reconvene tomorrow. We can even add on some additional time, if you'd like."

He was rendered silent by her touch. He couldn't agree. He couldn't disagree. Instead, he dumbly watched her maneuver past the two managers. And, Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur André entered his abode.

Just outside, Christine lingered momentarily trying to decide where to go. She couldn't go to Meg, and she was quite sure Raoul was busy adjusting the set up and tending to the horses. She never minded helping him with the horses because she really loved those animals. But, something stopped her from immediately rushing off to him.

As she loitered, she fumbled with her cloak and dropped it on the ground. She was retrieving it and dusting it off when she overheard the muffled conversation from within the train car.

"You said that you had an idea for an upcoming performance," one of the managers was saying.

There was a pause. Then Erik's calm and steady voice said, "As you are both well aware the success of _Les Spectacle des Merveilles_ has grown beyond what anyone could have initially imagined. With this success, we need to start thinking about the future. We need to expand our spectacles and entertainment."

"What did you have in mind?"

"We've already introduced themes, which is a start," Erik continued. "But, I want something bigger. I want to create one big show within this carnival."

"One big show? How do you mean?"

"The day before we venture away from this place, we will put on a show reminiscent of what could be seen on the stage of the Opera Populaire itself! And, we will have Christine as the feature."

Christine's breath caught in her throat. Erik suggesting that she be the center, the star, was surprising and overwhelming. It was enough that the stands were overflowing every night, but to have an entire show centered on her was intense.

"Mademoiselle Daaé? Do you think she can hold up an entire show?"

There wasn't a sound at this. Christine didn't know if perhaps this was an affirmation or a negation on this part. But, her heart beat faster in her chest at the prospect that she would be thrown into this.

"I suppose we don't have much of a say, either way," one of the managers said.

"You don't have any say," Erik growled. "Remember who actually runs this show. You wouldn't want any negative consequences that might come with forgetting that fact."

"Of course."

"Now, you don't have to worry about any of the music or choreography. I will take care of all of that," Erik continued in his calm tone again. "All you two have to do is smile and nod."

Christine didn't hear what came next, for she was already off at a brisk pace to find someone to confide in. Her mind was racing as fast as her feet. She was trying to go over everything she had just overheard. She knew it wasn't proper to listen in on private conversations, but she couldn't ignore what she had just heard. She had so many questions, and there wasn't anyone who could answer them. She couldn't confront Erik directly. She couldn't give any hint that she had overheard that conversation.

She slowed down as she came up to the stables. She found three of the four horses present and no Raoul. Instead, Philippe came around from the other side, nearly startling her. She stopped abruptly. All of her previous concerns disappeared. She hadn't spoken to him since the incident, either.

"Philippe," she breathed, drawing his attention.

He looked up, surprised. "Christine! H-How are you?"

Christine shrugged. "I've been better, I'm sure. I'm just trying to adapt to life, at this point."

Philippe stepped in closer. "I want to apologize. I've wanted to apologize for a while now. I never meant to shut you out with all of this."

"Philippe, I am so sorry. I don't know what happened, but I didn't do it," Christine declared. "I give you my word."

"I believe you," Philippe said quietly. "I know you wouldn't do such a thing. I've been trying to figure out who would want to drive a wedge between all of us. Well, I suppose between you and Meg more. Her mother is still upset, of course, but Meg and I find times to sneak away."

Christine smiled. "I'm glad. The last thing I would want to do is ruin your and Meg's relationship." She sighed, actually pleased. "It was nice to connect, Philippe. You don't need to pay me any attention, especially around Meg, but I appreciate that we understand one another."

"I will speak with Meg, but she's very stubborn," Philippe said. "I know she will come around eventually, though. She's got a good heart. She's still shocked and hurt."

Christine nodded. "I understand. I couldn't even imagine. Do you know if Raoul is around?"

"He was sent out to get some fresh meat for meals," Philippe explained. "You're welcome to wait here with the horses. They like you."

"Thank you. I think I shall."

"Did you have to speak to him about something important?"

Christine hesitated. "Yes, there is something I was hoping to talk to him about. I suppose it can wait."


	17. Madame Giry Breaks

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** Sorry for the late update. I'm at the point where I know how I want this story to end and I just want it to get there. But I have to fill the gap from where we are to where we need to be. I think this chapter was much needed. I hope that you all like it. I know it may seem a little random coming from Madame Giry, but out of all of the options, I think she was the best and really only one that could have had this conversation with Christine.

 **Chapter 17 – Madame Giry Breaks**

Christine lingered out of sight of all of the people. It was almost her time to go on, but she was feeling particularly nervous that evening. There was so much on her mind that she just couldn't seem to concentrate. She hoped her performance wouldn't falter because of it, but she wasn't putting too much faith into that.

She watched Meg performing beautifully with the horses. Philippe was dressed up to match her costume, and was leading the horses in their romp around the ring. Christine was quite impressed with how well they performed together. She couldn't say she had ever really noticed before, but they seemed to have some sort of intuition about each other.

"That's incredible," Christine breathed.

"She does look so grown up," Madame Giry agreed right next to her.

Christine started. She had not meant to be overheard. She hadn't even noticed Madame Giry's presence. Looking over the older woman, though, it warmed Christine's heart to see how proud and happy she looked while watching her daughter.

Christine looked back out at the performance. A small smile came to her lips, as well. "They do make a great pair," she commented without even realizing what she was saying.

As soon as she realized, though, she bit her lip and turned to Madame Giry.

"Hm," Madame Giry responded curtly. Her smile had faded, and her lips were now a small, tight line on her face.

"I am so sorry, Madame Giry," Christine apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to-"

Madame Giry put up a hand, which called for silence. Christine immediately stopped. She stood by uncomfortably, not knowing what would come of her thoughtless comment.

Madame Giry sighed. "I suppose I can't deny that they do complement each other very nicely. But, I can't condone what she did."

"I am so sorry, Madame Giry. I did tell her that you should be made aware. Yet, I think it is important that you should know that I am not the one that wrote you that note."

Silence ensued for a short time. Christine kept glancing back at Madame Giry, but her expression was unreadable. She wasn't about to break that silence, though, and possibly make matters worse. She wanted to clear her name, though, and thought that Madame Giry should know, despite having been brought into the light of her daughter's affairs with that note. It was important she should get one of them to believe her.

"Thank you, Christine," Madame Giry said without looking at her. "I never once thought you had sent that note."

Christine gasped, surprised. "What?"

"I know you didn't write that note to me, Christine," Madame Giry stated firmly. She turned her eyes briefly onto the girl, any doubt about what might have been said gone. Madame Giry glanced around, as if checking for someone. Then taking Christine by the wrist, she tugged her away from the curtain. "Come with me, Christine."

They didn't stop until they were outside of the tent and even a little further from the edge of the canvas.

"Madame Giry, what's the matter?" Christine asked breathlessly.

"We must speak," Madame Giry told her in a hushed voice, "but there are eyes and ears everywhere. I am afraid even this is not a safe location."

"Safe location from what?"

Madame Giry gripped her shoulders. "Christine, there is a much larger force at play. You have been an unfortunate victim of it, I am afraid."

Christine shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Nothing is by chance here. Everything is done with a deliberate intent. Even…" Madame Giry paused and swallowed. When she spoke again, there was obvious strain in her voice. "Even your father's murder."

Christine took a step back. "M-Murder? Madame Giry, my father fell. He wasn't murdered. What are you talking about?"

When Madame Giry went on, her tone held sadness, perhaps even regret. "Christine, I was fond of your father. I apologize if I am out of line, but he…he was different. I suppose that's why you stand out so much. I can't just sit idly by anymore. You see, I thought that it would ensure Meg's safety if we were blind to it all. But, I am afraid it is no longer my job to protect her." A small, sad smile cracked across her face.

Christine took the opportunity the small lapse of silence offered. "I appreciate your sentiment for my father. I thank you for that. He certainly was special, and I am glad that others can recognize that, too. I don't quite understand you, though, when you speak of protecting Meg."

"What I mean to say…" Madame Giry trailed off, trying to find the correct words. "If he is willing to go to such lengths when it would affect you directly then that means nobody is safe."

Christine snatched up Madame Giry's hands into her own, desperately. "Madame Giry, I beg of you to stop being so delicate. Please tell me what you need to say, while we still have time. I am lost. I feel as though I am constantly stumbling through a fog. I can't seem to get direct answers from anyone. So, please, tell me what is happening," she pleaded.

Madame Giry searched her eyes. She felt moved by the yearning for answers. It was only owed to the girl, after all. Madame Giry sighed.

"Is Philippe capable of ensuring Meg's safety?" Madame Giry asked instead.

This threw Christine off. She dropped Madame Giry's hands, and blinked a few times, trying to catch up. "Excuse me?"

"You have firsthand knowledge. Can I trust Philippe to look after my Meg?"

Christine nodded. "Of course. I have never seen two people more suited for each other—more in love with each other."

"When I tell you this, Christine, my life will be forfeit. I don't know how, but he will find out. He always does."

"Who?" Christine asked.

Madame Giry grasped her by the shoulders. "You know who I am referring to, Christine. I know you do deep down. Whether or not you want to believe it is up to you entirely. But, it is true nevertheless. There is one person in this entire enterprise who would do anything, even murder, if it meant isolating you and tying you to him and him alone. Does that make sense?"

"I suppose so." Christine reflected for a moment. She saw a pattern, first with her father dying and then with Meg turning so abruptly on her. She could see how she was slowly becoming isolated from everyone around her. She didn't have many people to rely on in the first place, and now that number was dwindling by the day it seemed.

"You must hold onto what relations you have," Madame Giry continued. "You must surround yourself with those you can trust. The more you allow that isolation to creep in, the more you allow him to win. I can't say what about you specifically caught his attention, but now that it has, he won't give you up for anything. That has created a very dangerous situation."

Madame Giry paused. She swallowed, her own fear rising, as well. She suddenly felt a desperate paternal need to protect Christine. She was near Meg's age, after all.

"Christine, I am so very frightened that he may resort to killing you if he discovers he cannot have you to himself," Madame Giry hissed.

Christine's heart beat in her chest. Fear gripped her, but she couldn't even say from what. Madame Giry was riling her up with their conversation. But, she was so curious as to what was happening and where it all was coming from. Madame Giry made it sound so real and so dire. Christine could do little else than take everything she was saying seriously.

"Madame Giry," Christine said, trying to steady the older woman and get some answers out of her, "who is this man that seeks to harm us all?"

Madame Giry opened her mouth to say something, but their conversation was interrupted just at the most important moment.

"Christine!" Raoul interjected coming upon them. "You are on in mere seconds. You must get in there now. Nobody knew where you had gone."

Christine looked back at Madame Giry, who nodded at her. "You must go and perform like this never happened. Do you understand?"

"Christine! We must go now!" Raoul insisted.

"I shall talk with Meg regarding her future." Madame Giry smiled. It was an odd sort of smile, like one of relief or some similar emotion. Christine couldn't quite understand it. "Thank you for all you have done for us, Christine. Now, you must go."

Without another word, Raoul grabbed Christine's hand and dragged her back to the large tent where her performance awaited.


	18. Persephone

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for the lovely reviews! I tried to combine a few different things to keep the story moving in this chapter. I am thinking that there will be a couple more development chapters kind of modeled this way. I am expecting maybe four. I can't imagine it would go beyond that, unless there is an epilogue chapter.

I hope this chapter proves to be quite interesting, and moves things along.

 **Chapter 18 – Persephone**

Despite the audience's cheers, Christine knew that she had struggled through the whole thing. She took her broken heart into the shadows, behind the curtain. She had still been so frazzled from the conversation she had had with Madame Giry just before her performance. But, all of that was a thing of the past. She couldn't blame her performance on the other woman. She could only blame herself.

She hung her head, recognizing every little thing that had gone wrong. She hadn't hit her note. She had missed her cue to begin. Her feelings and her mind had been elsewhere. She wanted to curl up and cry. She felt so disappointed in herself and in her voice. But, most of all, she felt she had let her tutor down. She knew he had witnessed it. She knew that he saw all of her performances, though she lost track of him quickly after his own show. She was certain she would get a stern review the following day.

Almost as soon as she put one foot behind the curtain, the two managers came forward into the spotlight. It wasn't rare that they should close the show after her performance with a grateful word or two. She bit back her tears and her self-loathing to turn and listen to the closing ceremony.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Monsieur Firmin began, spreading his arms cheerfully. "Thank you all so much for attending _Les Spectacle des Merveilles_! We have been so happy to have been host to you all. We would like to take a moment of your time for one more announcement."

Monsieur André cleared his throat. "It is with the heaviest of hearts that we must announce that our little show will be departing in three weeks' time."

There was a general groan from the audience.

"It is quite unfortunate, we know," André agreed, wearing an over exaggerated frown.

"However," stepped in Firmin, "we do have a present for all of you. The day before we depart, for the first time ever, _Les Spectacle des Merveilles_ will be putting on a brand new show."

"We will be combining all of our acts into one glorious production that will rival those seen on the stage! And, that production will star our very own beautiful and talented Mademoiselle Daaé!" André finished with a flourish.

Cheers erupted throughout the crowd. Christine gasped.

"For the price of admission, you all will have the incomparable experience of being the first ever to lay eyes on this masterpiece!" André continued.

"Advertisements will be posted in the city center. This will be an experience that you will not want to share with the children, so you'll want to leave them at home. Please look out for the advertisements for more information," Firmin concluded. "For tonight, though, the show has come to an end. We ask that you all return safely to your homes, and remain vigilant for what is to come next."

xXx

Christine scooted into position next to Raoul on the risers. It was one of the morning meetings the managers had called. However, this time everyone knew exactly what was going to be discussed.

Monsieur André and Monsieur Firmin stepped in front of all of them.

"Good morning! We will get straight to the point as we are all going to be very busy over the next couple of weeks," Monsieur Firmin began. "As you all heard last night, our show is going to be headed in a bit of a different direction."

"Different is good," André jumped in quickly. "This is an indication that we are growing in the right direction. We are making a name for ourselves. There are many cities and towns around the country right now requesting that we make an appearance."

Firmin took over. "That being said, expectations are growing on what we can deliver. So, we are going to show everyone what we are capable of by presenting them with a grand scale production."

"We already have the scripts, the choreography, the music to make this happen," Monsieur André said. "Everyone will have a part."

"As big a part as Christine?"

It was La Carlotta who had inquired. Her voice came out of the crowd like venom. There were definitely jealous, stinging undertones in the Spanish accent.

"Well, it is true that all of the parts will be different. Some are more supportive than others," Firmin clarified.

"Like any production, certain talents are called for more than others," André said, coming to the rescue. "Mademoiselle Daaé has the fit and the qualifications for one of the lead roles."

Christine was blushing profusely. She glanced around at the sea of faces, each turned to her. She had never really asked for this attention. It was supposed to have all been for her father. But, she had been pulled into the world somehow.

She looked around helpless, though, trying to find a friendly face. Carlotta's lips were pinched together. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and she stared daggers at Christine. Meg frowned, but her large doe eyes held more than the recent hate. Meg appeared to have some pity, and maybe even some regret. Christine thought that a little new, a little odd.

Philippe, seated next to Meg, held a disinterested expression. It was like a shrug existed inside of it. Raoul put a comforting hand on hers. She looked down at it, her heart beating faster.

There was one person she didn't see, though. Erik never seemed to be around, so that wasn't anything new. It was Madame Giry. She wasn't in the stands with everyone else. In fact, Christine couldn't recall ever seeing her that morning.

"The tale we will be telling is of Persephone and her abduction by Hades, the God of the underworld," Monsieur André explained with a grin. "The whole thing will not be musical, but certain parts will definitely be. The show will flow seamlessly from one scene to another, which is all planned out."

"We will go through the assigned role with the designated individual, and provide the documents needed for study," Monsieur Firmin was concluding. "We will have to start working on props and costumes immediately. We will be able to go through any details on the role for those who have questions. Mademoiselle Daaé, you are to go to your lesson directly after this. There, your involvement will be explained."

Monsieur André took a step forward. "There will be a trial performance in about two weeks, before our grand opening in three weeks. The trial performance will be in front of some of the more prominent figures of this city. We would like the show to be in its final stages at that point, so we are relying on everyone to work very hard to make this happen. We thank you all!"

With that, the company was dismissed.

xXx

"Christine!" Meg rushed over and grasped Christine's hands, as if nothing had happened to drive a wedge between them.

Christine was taken aback, but she didn't resist the younger girl. Raoul took a step back to allow them room.

"Meg?" Christine uttered dumbly.

"Oh, Christine, I am ever so sorry for how I have been behaving!" Meg exclaimed. "I should have known that you would never betray me like that."

"Meg, what's happened?" Christine asked.

"Mama and I had a talk last night after the show," Meg explained. "She actually gave her blessing to Philippe and me. She said she had been silly and putting her own wants before my own. She explained that it wasn't you—that it couldn't have been you." Tears came to her eyes. "Christine, I have been so foolish. Is there any way you can forgive me?"

"Of course, Meg," Christine said. "There is nothing to forgive."

Meg flung her arms around Christine, pulling her into a tight embrace. Meg giggled. "This feels so much better. I was having so much trouble trying to be mad at you, Christine. As soon as I had said those nasty things to you, I instantly regretted them. I can't believe I have been so stubborn."

"Meg, this is too much," Christine whispered. "I am just glad to be able to call you a friend again."

"Me too," Meg agreed.

"It's about time," Raoul commented from the sidelines.

Both young women looked over at him. His presence had gone fairly unnoticed with their reunion taking place. But, his comment brought them all back to the present.

"I'll have to speak with your mother regarding her concern over the situation," Christine said, ignoring Raoul. "I haven't seen her this morning, yet. Where has she gotten to?"

Meg shrugged. "I think she may have been sent into town early by the managers. I lost track of her, though. She must have had an appointment to take her away."

"Oh! An appointment! I must go," Christine said. "As much as I would like to stay and spend some much deserved time with you, Meg, I'll be late for my lessons."

"I understand." Meg smiled. "Come find us when you've finished. We can catch up then."

Christine broke off from the group and headed toward Erik's trailer. She knocked on the door, as she always did, and waited for him to allow her entrance. However, unlike the previous times, no sound issued from within. She tried knocking again, but still no sound. She tried the handle and found that the door easily gave way.

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The interior was just as she had always seen it, except that the man in the mask was absent. She had never been alone inside of his train car. She soaked in the silence and took her time looking about. It seemed a very foreign place without his presence. Everything inside seemed to be much more delicate and off-limits.

She walked around the perimeter of the room, or as much so as she could. She ran a hand over some hanging cloaks. One in particular appeared fresh and new. It was decorated more than the others, with accents that glinted in the right light. It seemed out of place against the other well-worn, basic black cloaks.

Moving away from the cloaks, she was drawn to a mask displayed on a stand. It was white with some bone detail and long, curling horns extending backward from the top of it. It contained similar details as the cloak, to make it stand out in particular lighting. It was truly a sculpture. But, it looked awkward. She was curious how it would actually fit, but she knew it would look spectacular once it was adorned.

Christine turned away from the mask, impressed with its work and styling. She continued to mildly peruse what else she could. She passed by some papers that were strewn across a table. They appeared to be drawings or schematics for some sort of contraption or stage. She was staring at this when the door was flung open behind her.

She spun around. Erik barged in, swiftly shutting the door again. He didn't seem to notice her until a second later. Then he appeared quite surprised that she was already present.

"Christine," he breathed.

"I apologize," she said quickly. "I let myself in. I was told that we would be having our lessons this morning."

"Yes!" He sounded excited. "We are going to start working on something new. It seems that the managers announced that they are taking things in a new direction. We will have to focus on that."

"I expected as much," Christine said. She paused, though. "But, were you not going to say anything about my performance yesterday?"

"Your performance?"

She nodded. "Yes, it was abominable. I did so many things wrong."

Erik sat at his instrument and looked at her more casually than his movements had been thus far. "Was it bad, Christine? The audience seemed to enjoy it."

She started to get a little frustrated. "Of course it was! There was no emotion behind any of the words. I missed my cue, and failed to hit some notes. Did you not watch? Did you not listen? It was a complete disaster."

Erik smiled. It wasn't very often that she saw him smile. It took her by surprise. She took a step backward, unsure of how to act.

"Do you not see, Christine?" Erik said proudly. "You have grown so much. You are able to see beyond just simple praise to actually critique your own work. You recognized what was wrong with the performance. That is half the battle. Now you can actually take measures to grow stronger than you are now."

Christine shook her head. "You aren't angry? I thought you would be disappointed."

"I was," Erik admitted. "Until just now when you brought up all of the mistakes you made. That proves that you are listening, and that you are learning. That gives me hope, Christine."

Christine blushed. She spun away from him. Her hands were kneading together nervously in front of her skirt. A happy smile came to her face, and she genuinely felt ecstatic.

"So," Christine changed the subject, "this new project ought to be interesting. Do you really think we can all pull together in time?"

"It may be a lot of hard work, but it will happen," Erik said confidently.

"It is really miraculous that you got all of the music together," Christine said, making conversation. "I would assume that would be the part that would take the most amount of time."

"It certainly was years of passionate effort," Erik sighed. "But, it seems that it will finally be put in front of an audience, and you are the only one that can bring justice to the role of Persephone, Christine."

Christine paused, her smile fading. She dwelled on this for a moment.

Erik sighed. He rustled through some music sheets. He handed a copy to Christine and set up the original in front of him. "Please, have a seat, Christine."

Christine found her chair and sat down facing him. She studied the notes and the words, but couldn't concentrate on them. Something he had said didn't sit right with her.

"The story is going to be based off of the myth surrounding Persephone," Erik began. "You, of course, will be in the lead role as Persephone herself. I understand that the entire show is not going to be dedicated to music and singing, but your parts certainly will. The production will open up with Persephone wandering about in nature. It will be an introductory scene with a short song."

Christine nodded. "It sounds like it will be a very powerful production. That myth is certainly a sad, yet beautiful one."

Erik positioned his fingers on the keys. "It is quite perfect, if I may say so."

"Perfect? How do you mean?" Christine asked. She thought it a strange way to describe the story.

Erik cleared his throat. "Are you ready to begin? I shall play through it. If you feel as though you can jump in, please do so. We are operating on limited time."

xXx

"I got my role, Christine!" Meg ran over and took a seat next to Christine. "I will be Artemis, mistress of the wilds and the animals. I suppose it is fitting, and this way I'll get to perform with the girls."

It really did seem a fitting role. According to the script, Meg would have an entire scene performing with her horses. They really appeared to have done a good job incorporating everyone.

"That is perfect for you!" Christine commented.

"I think it is simply delightful that you will be portraying Persephone," Meg continued. "This production is sure to be a hit."

"It is definitely going to be hard work to prepare for it," Christine said. "My voice isn't really trained to handle an entire production, but the music and lyrics are quite beautiful. I hope that I can pull it off."

"You'll do splendidly, Christine." Meg flipped through a couple of pages then frowned. "I wonder how my scene will play out. I have to contend with La Carlotta. She's going to be playing a water nymph foraging through the forest with me. Do you want to guess how that scene will be staged?"

"Meg," Christine warned. But, without having seen the actual script on how everyone else would be involved and staged, she imagined that La Carlotta's particular role would be fairly indecent.

Raoul and Philippe fell into seats next to the young women. They appeared to have some paperwork, as well.

"Are those instructions for the scenes with the horses?" Christine asked.

"Not quite…" Philippe responded mysteriously. He had a small smirk on his face.

Raoul held the papers out as if looking for some help. "I don't understand this at all."

"What's the matter, Raoul?" Christine asked.

"I am assigned a role," he muttered.

Christine's eyes went wide. "What?"

"I am assigned to a speaking role. Is that even allowed?" Raoul asked.

Nobody really had an answer.

"I suppose," Meg said, unsure.

Christine was confused about the entire situation. It seemed she had really missed out on not looking through a complete script. She couldn't believe that Raoul would actually have a part to play in the production. He was a stagehand and worked with the horses. It wasn't even known whether or not he could perform.

"How…" Christine began. Then she shook her head, thinking of a better way to approach the situation. "Why would they assign a role to you, Raoul?"

Raoul shrugged his shoulders.

"Well, what's the role, Raoul?" Meg asked, excited.

Raoul looked over the pages again. "The role is Hermes. In the myth, Hermes was wooing Persephone before she got kidnapped. He went to rescue her, but…well, we all know how the story turns out."

Christine stood up slowly. Her heart was pounding her chest due to a sudden fear that had arisen there. She took a couple steps away from the group, trying to get her thoughts and suspicions together. The idea of this production was starting to concern her.

"Christine, what is it?" Meg asked.

She shook her head. "I'm afraid, Meg." She turned toward them. Tears were stinging her eyes, but refused to fall. "I am truly afraid."


	19. The Kiss

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** So this is a lot of dialogue. I think I needed to develop some relationships a bit more, and keep some things moving right along. Also, guess who returns?

I wanted the main scene between Raoul and Christine here to be fairly reminiscent of All I Ask of You. I love that scene in the production of Phantom of the Opera. Steve Barton's performance with Sarah Brightman is simply fantastic and swoon worthy. Sorry, I'll stop fan-girling. THAT ISN'T TO SAY THAT PORTRAYALS OF THE PHANTOM ARE NOT ALSO SOMETHING TO BE ADMIRED.

I really like the way this chapter turned out. It was definitely necessary before moving forward. I think that the story will progress a lot between this and the next chapter now. We are very nearly at the end now.

 **Chapter 19 – The Kiss**

Christine sashayed across the ring, hitting her cue vocally and physically beautifully. She noticed a few mistakes here and there, as she was still fairly new to the song, but she didn't allow it to interfere with her performance.

It had been a few days only since she had first begun to practice the new songs. She had a good portion of them down, but she still faltered every now and then. Erik had instructed her to continue on despite any mistakes that might arise. She had to learn her part quickly, as there wasn't much time. With his faith in her, she knew she could get it done. She wouldn't let him down in this.

The song rose to its peak. She lifted her arms in a sweeping motion. Her voice rose with the gesture, until she hit the note perfectly. Then with a few twinkling notes, it ended.

Monsieur Firmin, who was monitoring her performance, stood up and cheered. He came forward from the stands with a large grin on his face.

"Mademoiselle Daaé, if you perform like that for the actual production, this might actually work," he praised.

She smiled, blushing. The smile was a little tight, for she replayed her mistakes in her head. "Thank you."

A sad look came to Monsieur Firmin's eye as he stared at her. His smile faded into one that resembled pity. "Your father would be awfully proud," he added a little quieter.

Christine's smile faded. She searched his eyes for some sort of answer. She had a strong sense that he wanted to tell her something, but he couldn't. Something was holding him back, but she couldn't say what.

"Monsieur-" she started. But, she didn't get far.

Meg came running into the tent. "Christine!"

Christine spun around to face her.

"Christine! Mama is back!" Meg stopped next to the pair. "Monsieur Firmin, may I borrow Christine? I promise I will give her right back."

The smile returned to Monsieur Firmin's face. "Anything for you, Meg. It is getting close to meal time, anyway. I think it best we should end today on a successful note, no pun intended."

Meg smiled. She grabbed Christine by the hand and whisked her away.

Madame Giry had been gone for three days without a word to her daughter where she had been. Even the managers had kept quiet about her location, if they even knew at all. Philippe and Raoul were keeping her company when Meg and Christine rushed over.

The three immediately stopped talking when the girls walked up. Madame Giry smiled at their approach. She reached out and took Meg's hand when her daughter was close enough. The older woman appeared to have more wrinkles etched into her face, and weariness seemed to weigh her down.

"Christine," she greeted, "I hear that you are progressing quite nicely with the production. It's only been a few days, but from what I briefly heard, the show could open tomorrow."

"That's too kind," Christine murmured. "But, I think we all just want to know where you've been and what you have been doing the past few days."

Madame Giry's smile grew tight. "There will be time for that," she said dismissively. "I assume you have to get back to practice, and from what I hear, I have some catching up to do."

"Monsieur Firmin is actually going to end practice for tonight, he said," Meg jumped in. "We should be receiving the evening meal before dark." She motioned toward the sun hanging low in the sky near the horizon.

Madame Giry didn't seem too pleased by this information. She glanced at Philippe and Raoul, who nodded as if they knew something that Meg and Christine didn't know. Philippe came forward first and took up Meg's hand from her mother.

"Darling," he said, pulling her a little bit apart from the others.

Meg glanced from him to her mother, an expression of concern on her face. It was obvious that she wasn't aware of her mother's regrets regarding their relationship.

"Philippe, what-" Meg started, but he interrupted her.

"I think there is something your mother would like to speak to you about," he said smiling.

Meg glanced between her mother and her husband again. Slowly she began to understand that there was something she was missing—something good.

While Christine was looking at the scene unfold, Raoul approached her. She hardly noticed.

"Christine," he whispered, with a small smile, "we should let them have a moment."

She nodded in agreement, but she yearned for Madame Giry to explain herself. The woman couldn't disappear for days and not have an explanation. There were too many unanswered questions plaguing _Le Spectacle des Merveilles_ , and it was starting to weigh heavily on her. She didn't know how much longer she could stand the mystery.

Raoul led her toward the stables. "Do you think we have enough time?" he asked with a daring smirk.

Christine looked at him for the first time. The pressing thoughts on her mind disappeared, and she accepted the challenge.

They raced the rest of the way to the horses. Christine giggled in the whirlwind adventure. It took only a minute for Raoul to prepare Agatha to go for a twilight ride. He hopped on, pulled Christine up behind him, and they took off.

Christine loved the feel of the wind in her hair as they galloped away from the large tent. She felt her troubles, her thoughts, her worries being carried on the wind. She recalled another time when she had felt like that. It had been at the start of everything—when her father and she had first arrived.

Her arms were wrapped around Raoul tightly, so that she wouldn't blow away. She felt the warmth radiating off of him, and she decided there was nowhere else she wanted to be. She shut her eyes; lay her head against his arched back.

She didn't open them again until they were slowing down and coming to a stop.

"Ho, Aggie," Raoul cooed deeply, and she obeyed.

Raoul dismounted first then assisted Christine.

She didn't know where they had ended up, nor did she really care. They had somehow made it out to the country. The town, if that was the correct town, appeared to be just a speck in the distance. The sun was setting now, so some time had certainly passed. She had left her shawl inside of the tent during her rehearsal, but now she wished she had it. She wrapped her arms around herself, walking a little bit back and forth and surveying her surroundings.

"It's beautiful out here," Christine whispered with a sigh.

"It is," Raoul agreed.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. His eyes darted onto her then he turned away to finish tending to the horse. He threw the lead rope over the horse's neck and secured it loosely. Then Agatha just went about grazing.

Christine swayed slowly back toward him, watching the ground as she put one foot in front of the other. "Raoul, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Do you ever feel like you just want to keep going? Never turn back. Never return. Just keep riding until you come to a place where nobody knows who you are."

He didn't ask why or what she meant. He just smirked and said, "Of course. I think we all feel that way at some point. I would have thought you liked singing for everyone, though."

"I do. I did." She shrugged and shook her head. "I don't know. I think it has become too much, Raoul."

"It all feels like too much at times," Raoul mused. "I think it is how we handle ourselves in such situations that determine our character."

Christine stared at him, a small smile coming to her face. "When did you become so wise?"

Raoul stood straighter. "I've always been like this. You've just been too distracted by my good looks and charm to notice."

Christine laughed. "Oh, is that so? I'll have you know that you give yourself too much credit." She spun away, watching the sunset.

He walked up next to her and watched the sunset, too. "But, I do know what you mean, Christine. If I could, I think I would move on from this kind of life."

"You could really make something of yourself, Raoul," Christine encouraged. "I think you have it in you. I really do."

"Thank you." He smiled genuinely at her. There was nothing but appreciation behind it. "I wouldn't be able to leave my brother behind, though. As soon as he is ready to move on, I will do the same. You seem to be well on your way, though."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, he seems to be training you awfully well to move on to bigger and better things one of these days," Raoul said. "And, I'm sure he'll be right there in the shadows to make sure nothing happens and nobody gets too close."

"What are you talking about? Or, I should say, who are you talking about?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. It's nothing."

She scoffed. "Why does everyone keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Brushing everything off. Not telling me the truth. Have your pick."

"I've never been dishonest with you, Christine, and I never will be." Raoul sounded sincere.

"What was Madame Giry talking to you and Philippe about then? When Meg and I came over, the three of you seemed to end your conversation fairly abruptly. What was that about, Raoul? Where was Madame Giry this entire time?" Christine stared into his eyes, searching and pleading for some answers.

"She was visiting some friends in town," Raoul told her with barely a pause. "She is trying to arrange something, but it is too soon to say what, Christine."

"I didn't realize she knew anyone outside of this show," Christine murmured.

Raoul put his hands gently on her shoulders. "Christine, I promise I will tell you everything you wish to know. But, I can't do that just yet. The time isn't right. If you know too soon…well…it might ruin everything. All I can say for now is that there is a darkness that looks to consume you. I know that doesn't make any sense, but…Can you trust me, Christine? At least for a little while longer." He tried to smile, but it was sadder than it was reassuring.

Christine felt her heart skip a beat. "Of course I trust you, Raoul. I think that I could trust you forever even if you never asked me to. But, I just don't know what is happening anymore. Am I being paranoid? I am so confused and so…frightened." She shivered at the last word.

"You're freezing, Christine," Raoul noticed. He rubbed his hands up and down her arms to create some friction and some warmth, but it didn't seem to be working. So he pulled her in to embrace her.

She easily fell into his arms. She closed her eyes, placing her head against his chest. "Raoul, I feel afraid all of the time. I don't know what to do."

"I know, Christine, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't make that fear go away—that I can't tell you more. But, I promise that I will protect you no matter what."

"All I want is you always beside me," she whispered.

She felt his hand trace her jawline and fall below her chin. Gently, he lifted her chin so that she was staring up into his deep eyes.

"Christine," he said just as quietly, "say you love me."

"You know I do," she replied instantly, hardly giving him time to finish.

His lips brushed against hers, softly at first then solidifying a place as she pressed into him.

Her heart fluttered. Even with the sun setting, warmth radiated throughout her body. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, never wanting to let go. She would have run off with him to the ends of the earth if he had asked her to in that moment. They could have kept going for all she cared. The carnival was an entirely different world that she didn't want to return to. She felt happy and free.

No darkness could touch her. The light was becoming brighter and brighter, all in this one kiss.

xXx

"Mademoiselle Daaé! I must protest this leave of absence!"

Monsieur André came rushing up to them as they trotted back into the camp. Raoul slipped easily off of the horse then lowered her gently to the ground. It was dark outside, but they had begun their return journey before the last rays of sunlight had left the sky.

"I apologize, Monsieur André," she excused, trying to keep herself from bursting with joy. "Monsieur Raoul here merely took me out on a short ride to clear my head. I thought it would improve my performance."

"Oh, well," André fumbled. It was as if he was trying to find something to chastise Raoul over, but her excuse left little for him to work with.

"Monsiuer Firmin indicated that I wouldn't be needed for any further rehearsals this evening," she continued.

"Well, he was mistaken. There has been a last minute addition. Now, if you would be so kind." He gestured toward the large tent. "I'll deal with you later," he added to Raoul before following her into the tent.

Christine glanced over her shoulder at Raoul. They shared a smile before she disappeared.

She discovered that the tent was deserted except for a ring of candelabras set up around the middle. As she took her place within the ring, she noted that she couldn't make out anything in the darkness outside of where the light touched. It was as if she was completely isolated. But, coming off of her delightful excursion with Raoul, she would have agreed to anything.

Monsieur André quickly shuffled away after positioning her. "I apologize, I must run to supervise one of the dances. But, the scene you shall be rehearsing is just after Persephone tastes one of the Pomegranates. I shall return shortly."

"But, Monsieur André, I haven't gone over that scene completely yet," she tried to say, but he was gone before she finished.

She couldn't actually see him leave, but she felt his presence disappear. She felt very alone, and her adrenaline started to wear off. She could hear herself breathing, which became heavy the longer she stood there.

Suddenly, a deep male voice initiated the song that was to take place with the scene. There were no instruments to accompany it, but it hit everything it was supposed to with grace and beauty. She recognized it instantly as that of her tutor: Erik or Monsieur Phantom, as the other cast members referred to him. She wasn't surprised that he was playing the role of Hades in this grand production, but the sudden burst of sound did cause her to physically jump.

Luckily, Erik had gone over nearly every song with her, so she was able to jump in at her cue. She fumbled with a couple of the words at first, but found that the song came back to her easily. She looked around to find the source of the voice, but couldn't see anything outside of the ring of light.

After her verse, though, Erik stepped into the candlelight. He had on a suit and a cape. The mask he wore was the one she had seen inside of his train car. It was detailed to give off the impression of his character.

There was no falter in his singing as he penetrated the light, though she nearly dropped her note. He seemed to get into position just inches in front of her as they finished the song. Then, there was a long pause of silence. She didn't know what to say, and she was certain he was trying to find a way to break the ice, as well.

"We'll have to work on that a bit," he said, and, to her surprise, the edge of his lips pricked up just a touch then fell back into the recognizable frown.

"I apologize. I didn't think we would be practicing this scene for a few days. We've only gone through the song once or twice," she breathed.

"Yes, well we haven't completed the scene yet," Erik admitted.

Christine shook her head, her curls readjusting around her shoulders. "I don't know the entire scene yet. W-What is missing?"

"Persephone tastes of the Pomegranate, leading into the song between Hades and Persephone. Hades reveals what Persephone did, as you know, and what it ultimately means. Persephone recognizes what she has done and what it means for her fate. At the end of the song…" He trailed off.

Christine swallowed. Her heart was beating very strongly in her chest. "Yes?"

"At the end of the song, the fate of the two is sealed with a kiss."

When she heard those words, a cold sweat fell over her. She didn't know where it came from or why fear gripped her heart so tightly. But, every instinct in her told her to run. Instead, she stared across into the familiar eyes ever found behind a mask.

"W-We are to c-complete the scene?" she managed to utter just above a whisper.

"That is what the managers wish for us to do, is it not?"

She nodded dumbly.

Erik took up the song from the beginning without notice. They fell right back into their roles, into the song. This go around, though, both players seemed to perform with a lot more emotion. Erik said each line and moved about with a possessive quality that the scene certainly called for. It was as if Hades really had just been watching Persephone seal her fate with the taste of a Pomegranate.

Christine seemed to have that fear and sudden realization that Persephone would have had at the mistake that she had just made. They moved about the small circle opposite each other. Christine didn't know where her choreography came from to give such life to the scene. She was merely reacting to Erik's movements and energy.

As the song came to an inevitable close, Erik snaked an arm around Christine's waist. It was only then that she was drawn momentarily out of the fantasy. His hand was shaking. Hades' hand wouldn't shake as he took what was now his. But, her tutor's certainly did. He was nervous. She couldn't understand why, but he was exceedingly nervous. It made some of the fear die away, and instead she found that there was some pity taking its place.

Reciting the last few lines of the song, she really stared into Erik's eyes. She felt the emotions of the song changing. Persephone could see the loneliness and the utter isolation that Hades had experienced. She knew that he never got to experience the touch or even the proximity of another soul like he was experiencing with her.

Her hands traveled up his chest and onto his shoulders, as if acceptance was pushing her gesture. She didn't stop there, though. Holding the last note, her fingers lifted and landed just barely on his neck. She felt his skin beneath hers. She felt the electricity and the heat.

She was easily supported as he dipped her ever so slightly and gently. One of his arms was wrapped underneath her, while the other hand traced her jawline to the back of her head. It was a gesture fairly similar, yet entirely different to that she had experienced with Raoul no more than two hours before.

Christine's eyes drifted closed as Erik's mouth fell onto hers. She found that she guided the kiss, much like Raoul seemed to guide the kiss she had experienced with him. Now she was the teacher, it seemed. She felt his lips give and take perfectly beneath hers.

She felt herself sinking into it, not like a drowning sensation, but much more like someone extinguishing the lights. The shadows were encompassing her and overtaking her, all in this one kiss.


	20. Le Mythe de Persephone

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** Getting close to the end now. I only expect to have one or two more chapters. I wanted to outline the entire production so that if/when a scene is referred to, it will be known what is involved with that scene. I know it is a little lengthy and messy, but I wanted to get it out there before the final chapter(s).

 **Chapter 20 –** _ **Le Mythe de Pers**_ _ **é**_ _ **phone**_

There was still a lot to get done before the upcoming performance, which left Christine and Raoul little time to see each other alone outside of rehearsals. Their practices were taken seriously, but there were little moments in between where they would share a good laugh or two and some hurried conversation.

Christine was pleasantly surprised at how well Raoul adapted to his role. Of course, it had been a complete surprise that he was even involved at all. Everyone was pleased to see that he exceled so much as Hermes. He delivered his dialogue with feeling and enthusiasm. He had memorized his lines within the first two days of receiving his script. Granted, he didn't have very much to learn in the first place.

They had gone through every scene of the production with small interruptions and adjustments. Despite having practiced the eating of the Pomegranate scene multiple times since the kiss that Christine and Erik had shared, they never engaged in that embrace since. They went through the whole scene, even with the song, but ended just before that kiss. Despite having been unprepared for the intimacy in the first place, Christine wasn't sure whether it was anticipation to end the scene properly or regret of not being able to.

Everyone who was not necessary to the scene cleared the tent whenever it was Erik's turn at rehearsal. Not that he really needed any practice. He always performed spectacularly. He hit every mark, knew every line and note. He came to every rehearsal as if it was the actual performance, except for donning the actual costume. Madame Giry remained hard at work with her own role in the production. Apart from her lines, she had to assist with all of the costumes and choreography. Needless to say, she was kept busy from sunup to sundown until the day of the trial performance.

The show opened up for the initial viewing with Christine wandering about the stage as if at home in nature. Despite having tried the dress on the previous day for a final dress rehearsal, her hand flew up as if to shield her immodest costume. It was flowing and loose fitting—a style she wasn't used to. It had a plunging neckline and no sleeves. It was sprinkled with a decoration of leaves and even had some branches extending on one side to indicate the character's place in nature.

She was frozen like that for a moment. But then the music started. She grew more comfortable as it continued. She glanced about, unsure at first. She moved about, though, swaying and unsteady. Her movement became more graceful and more beautiful. She was transformed by the music and the role.

When the song ended, he appeared. Raoul appeared in the circle of light, dressed like a Greek God of old. Christine wanted to laugh at how he had been made up, but stifled the urge to do so. They were still on stage, after all. Eyes were still upon them.

Raoul went through his lines without fault, and Christine responded with hers. Staring at him, everyone else seemed to disappear. The banter of their roles seemed to flow naturally, though the words were already pre-ordained.

They were only interrupted when Madame Giry flowed in. She had been given a small, but necessary part of Demeter, Persephone's mother. Since Christine already thought of Madame Giry as a motherly figure, it wasn't difficult for her to react in the necessary manner. Madame Giry shooed Raoul off stage as she was supposed to do, and after a few more lines, she escorted Christine into the back, as well.

Meg burst forth with her horses. It was now her time in the spotlight. The horses circled around the ring with Meg performing such tricks on their backs. La Carlotta and a few of the others worked their way into the center between the horses' movements. They performed a dance in unison, while Meg continued with her acrobatics. It was apparent that some of the dancers needed to catch up on the rhythm. There were a few who were just behind the music. La Carlotta was obviously the leader of the group, though. Her voice rang out the loudest and she moved in the center of them all with confidence and grace.

Then the horses stopped in a beautiful line toward the back of the stage. Meg kept them at bay, as Artemis, Goddess of the animals and the wildlands. No role could have fit Meg better. In the center of the ring, though, the other dancers seemed to fall into the background, while La Carlotta stepped forward. There was a spotlight directly on her. She had been given a song to do by herself, but it had mainly been to subdue her temper.

As expected, her performance turned out to be as adult-themed as her normal show. Her costume consisted of a sheer blue wrap-dress. It was made specifically for her because, as she proceeded with her song, she began to pull off her frock. Of course the affluent men making up the audience for the trial performance sat up straighter in their seats.

Christine retook the stage after Carlotta's performance. All of the dancers exited the stage, passing Christine on her way back out into the light. Meg remained. Her horses were instructed to take places around the outside of the ring and stopped in picturesque poses, while the scene commenced. Christine was happy to get a chance to perform with Meg. It was a short scene, though, where Artemis accompanied Persephone in gathering some flowers. As Meg finished her lines, though, Christine's dialogue extended into a song. Meg disappeared into the back with her horses, while Christine took center stage again.

She pretended to go around picking flowers and placing them in a little wicker basket she carried with her. There were some fake flowers worked into the set that she knew to interact with. She acted the part of Persephone, but a piece of her remained very aware of the men watching her. After Carlotta's scene, she was doubtful that she could keep them as interested.

The gathering scene was coming to a close. Christine knew, having practiced it so many times before, that Erik would be making his debut with the dimming of the lights. Her voice dimmed with the lights. She pretended to be too preoccupied plucking these flowers to notice, but she was quite aware of what was coming.

Then she heard it. His deep voice started low and ominous, but became inviting. Christine stopped what she was doing and stood slowly, looking about her in concern. Erik's voice grew louder, though she was still unable to see him. She felt alone again in the middle of the ring, but this time it was different. She felt trapped in a game of cat and mouse. She was the mouse.

There was a large shadow cast in the back, as scripted. It was meant to appear dark and foreboding. Erik always did a good job of that. He slowly came forward, into view then. He seemed to step right out of the shadows. He looked like a different person in his full costume. Christine cowered back, which simply worked toward her character's reaction.

Erik stepped forward gallantly, in beat with his song. When he had closed the distance between the two of them, his song came to a crescendo. And, as the song came to a close, as his voice brought the closing note, he spun his cloak off and around her shoulders, drawing her into the darkness.

And the lights were extinguished.

Christine took the short break to catch her breath. Some dancers and small acts went onstage to entertain the small crowd so that there could be some costume changes and set changes. Christine was too busy throwing on a darker ensemble that would be indicative of the underworld.

The second act opened up with Demeter scouring the earth for her lost daughter. The earth was being punished in the meantime—the origin of the seasons. Madame Giry did fairly well in her role. The opening scene contained Meg with her horses and Raoul, as well. Even La Carlotta and some of the other cast members performed in the background. At the end of the scene, Demeter, played by Madame Giry, discovers her daughter's location and laments as the scene ends.

Christine was able to use the additional time to finish making up her face and straightening her curls. She watched from the sidelines once finished, waiting for her cue. She couldn't say that she knew where Erik had gone off to, but he was supposed to immediately follow her scene. First it would be Christine as Persephone singing about being trapped in the underworld, unable to see the sun. But, Erik as Hades was meant to interrupt her reverie soon after her song ended.

She sashayed into the middle of the arena, as soon as the music shifted. She felt very exposed all by herself out there. Her underworld outfit was much more revealing than her previous one. There was only one strap holding this one up. Her other arm was bare, except for a silver cuff around her bicep. She did have a shawl, but it was sheer black, and did little to stave off the slight chill of the stage. But, she moved around as she was meant to, and sang her song as she was meant to.

She used her memories of coming to this unknown place and the feelings of loneliness that had been so apparent to strengthen her song. She knew that Persephone would have been experiencing the same emotions. She would have been wondering if she would ever see her family again, or even a friendly face. Christine hoped she did a good job in portraying these various emotions, but her time at _Le Spectacle des Merveilles_ had changed dramatically. She had found friendship and even love. She had lost her father in the process, but the empty hole inside of her was being eased by those around her.

Erik picked up where she left off. He sang to her, but also about her. He sang about his love and his desire. It was even more dramatic because his voice erupted from the shadows. He only came forward into view just as the song picked up. He had planned it out very nicely. Christine couldn't help how impressed she was by his performance. He knew so much more than she had ever given him credit for. She had lingered a little just to watch him come into the light, but then she scurried into the back.

Up next was the Pomegranate scene. Christine waited impatiently for Erik to finish. She couldn't place the nervous excitement in her stomach. Her nerves hadn't spiked this much yet, but for one reason or another she felt like she couldn't stand still. She didn't have to wait for too long, though. Soon Erik's solo piece had ended and it was time for Christine to take the stage once more.

She waited until Erik left the stage before slowly coming forward. She had been told that Persephone would be wary of her surroundings, despite already having been in the underworld for some time. The music played unaccompanied for a little time. It wasn't until she was in the middle of the light that she started in.

It proceeded just as it had previously. There were less mistakes and less hesitation, though. She tried to keep in mind what was occurring during this scene and how her character would be feeling. She was too aware of when to expect Erik and, sure enough, he joined in right on cue. She easily found where Erik entered, and turned to face him so that they could sing to each other.

She followed his movements, as he slinked around the perimeter, drawing ever nearer like a wild animal stalking its prey. Then came the moment that seemed to be what she was anticipating the most. Erik wrapped an arm around her waist. Her hands traveled up his arms and stopped on his shoulders, hesitant, yet curious. She felt herself being dipped, and then her gaze focused on his lips. Her eyelids shut lightly as he closed in. And, she felt it. This time she pushed back more so than previously. She could feel him wanting to back away, but until the scene was over, he wouldn't.

Christine relented immediately once the scene was officially done. She removed herself from Erik, rather sloppily. But, Raoul entered to disrupt the energy, just as he was supposed to. It was Hermes to the rescue. He came to claim Persephone and take her home, and Raoul did just that. Christine thought she noticed a silent challenge between Raoul and Erik before everything switched, but she ignored this to finish the show.

The end of the production consisted of a reunion between Persephone and Demeter, but then a final short song between Christine and Erik officially brought everything to a close.

xXx

"Mademoiselle Daaé! Mademoiselle Daaé!" Monsieur André beckoned. Christine noticed and acquiesced with a small forced smile on her face. André was standing with a gentleman who had been in the audience. "Let me introduce you to our star, Mademoiselle Christine Daaé."

After the show, Christine had changed into a violet dress with a cream colored blouse, lace, and accents. It had been gifted to her from the managers for all of her hard work and talent. Honestly, though, she thought that they had just wanted her to have something nicer to wear during the meet-and-greet after the performance. She felt even more out of place with it on in front of all of these judgmental men.

The man took her hand and kissed the top of it slowly. She blushed, not entirely sure how to react.

"Christine, this is Monsieur Armand Moncharmin," André introduced. "Monsieur Moncharmin is what one might call a talent scout."

Christine looked from Monsieur André to Monsieur Moncharmin. "It's a pleasure, Monsieur."

"The pleasure is all mine," Armand drawled.

Christine withdrew her hand. She glanced over the gentleman. "What exactly is it that you do, Monsieur Moncharmin?"

"Please, call me Armand," he correct.

"Armand," Christine tried unsteadily. It made her uncomfortable. She shook her head. "I apologize that I am unfamiliar with what it is you do-"

"I find talent and ensure that it is properly taken care of," he interrupted. "I was invited to this pre-show because there was supposed to be an extremely talented young woman that I just had to see. Needless to say, everything had been a bit of an understatement compared to what I witnessed: you, mademoiselle."

Christine blushed. "You are too kind, really."

Her heart beat fast in her chest. She had a feeling that this might have been the exposure she had always hoped for. She had a feeling that this meant she could break free and move onto bigger and better things.

"There are no words to express how impressed I am by your performance, Mademoiselle Daaé."

"She came to us with this great gift," André broke in, "but it has been honed by one of our very own."

Armand looked at André like he was a nuisance. "Monsieur André, would you mind terribly if I asked Christine to accompany me so that we can converse in private? I believe that we have a lot to speak about."

Before getting an answer, Armand grasped Christine's elbow and started leading her away. Christine didn't even have time to protest. But, André could be heard stuttering consent before they got out of range. Armand had led them to the backstage area. The curtain had been drawn aside slightly to allow the audience of important individuals to traverse wherever they wanted. The drapery fell slightly in front of the duo, obscuring them a bit. Christine tried to remain as much in view as possible, not feeling particularly in favor of the seclusion.

"Monsieur," she protested, "whatever it is you wish to speak about can be done so outside among the others."

"Christine," Armand interjected, "I think that you have talent that greatly surpasses this little sideshow. I intend to promote your talents to as many opera houses as I can. I want you to be revered by all, and with my assistance, you will be."

Her breath caught in her throat. He was promising her everything she ever wanted. "Y-You can do that?" she asked, still not entirely sure how he would ever make that possible.

"I have been behind every great name on the stage in the past decade. My word goes a long way in the entertainment world."

"And you would be willing to assist me? You think that I would be able to have a successful career?" Christine smiled a little at the thought. "You would help me?"

Armand stepped in close. "I must be honest with you, Christine. I am a business man first and foremost. Though I do enjoy seeing my creations take center stage and receive the credit that they deserve, I do require something in return."

"If you are talking about compensation, you must know that I do not have much," Christine revealed. "However, I wouldn't dream of not paying you for your assistance."

Armand ran a finger slowly up Christine's arm. "My compensation isn't always monetary, little bird," he breathed. His hand traced her jawline. "When I see something I like, I have to have it. You understand, right, Christine?"

Christine's heart thumped for an entirely different reason now. She was frightened. "I-I think it would be best if we returned to the others now." She withdrew a few steps.

Armand approached, maintaining the intimate distance. "This will only take a moment."

Christine's eyes went wide. She kept backing up, trying to escape. But, the stranger kept coming closer. They were too far behind the curtain now for anyone to notice her plight. She really didn't know what to do.

"What do you think you're doing?" the voice roared.

Armand whirled around. Christine stepped to the side to view her salvation. Raoul had come upon them and interrupted the scene. She rushed past Armand and fell into Raoul's arms easily.

"We were merely discussing a business venture," Armand dismissed. "It doesn't involve you."

"Stay away from Christine," Raoul warned. He turned away, cradling her under his arm. "I saw you two come back here. I would never let anything happen to you, Christine."

She sunk into him. "I know," she said quietly, a small happy smile on her face.

As they reemerged, Armand remained to catch his breath. He was disappointed and annoyed that his plan had not succeeded. He wasn't used to not getting what he wanted. Right now, after having witnessed that performance, he wanted Christine.

"This isn't the end," he hissed.

"Actually," a mysterious voice interjected from behind him, "it is."

The last thing Armand saw was a porcelain mask and hungry, threatening eyes.

* * *

 _Le Mythe de Perséphone:_ The Myth of Persephone


	21. The Final Curtain

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** This is the "final chapter" of this little story. I put it this way because I will be posting a short little epilogue. This should be added in a couple of days. I don't expect it to take as long as a normal chapter. I hope you enjoy this one, though. It was a bit difficult getting my ideas down for how this should end. I had quite a few, so I am hoping that this translates all right.

 **Chapter 21 – The Final Curtain**

"It has to be tonight," Madame Giry hissed.

Philippe shook his head in disbelief. "This is too sudden. We have to have more time to prepare."

"I'm afraid there is no more time," Madame Giry insisted. "It has to be tonight—after the show."

"Why the sudden spur into action?" Raoul asked.

The three of them were huddled outside, while audience members were piling into the large tent. Madame Giry had pulled the two brothers aside, practically violently. She was only willing to divulge her urgency once they were a safe distance away from any sort of structure. So they were loitering in the open space provided by the setup of the train cars and tents, while Madame Giry recounted her movements earlier that day.

"I knew he would be too busy ensuring his production would go off without a hitch," she began. "I made sure he was gone, of course. One would be mad to venture into his territory with him still present. There were plans and papers."

Philippe sighed. "That isn't exactly damning evidence, Madame Giry."

She looked over at him. "That isn't, you are correct. I found something else, though. I found a packed bag with sheets of music and other documents, and an extra set of clothing. The documents, though, contained two one-way tickets to Paris, purchased in advance and leaving tonight." She paused dramatically. "He has planned something to take place this evening."

"Do you think she is in danger this evening?" Raoul breathed.

Madame Giry nodded slowly. "With the utmost certainty."

xXx

So far the production was going spectacularly, and it was being received just as well. There had been a few tweaks and adjustments since the initial preview. There had been a noticeable increase in the quality of the show since then. The crowd that had filled every seat available was made only of adults, as requested. With La Carlotta's performance about to start, it was a relief to note that.

Christine turned away once it transitioned to Carlotta's moment. This wasn't something she needed to see again. She had a little bit of time until she was supposed to go onstage again. She glanced around for Raoul. She had noticed that he seemed to be a little off. Of course, he wasn't used to performing and large crowds of people. But, she could tell that there was something awkward about him. It was the first time since the beginning of the production that she actually had some time to be able to confront him about it, but he was nowhere to be found.

She ended up spending the precious few minutes she had looking around for him, but to no avail. She nearly missed her cue to return to the stage. She managed to step out just in time, though, before it would have been noticeable.

She tried to refocus on her role, but was still a little concerned about Raoul. He had seemed so natural and at ease before the start of the production. She would have left his strange behavior up to nerves and performing in front of the large audience, but she didn't believe that that was the cause. She thought perhaps he had some anxiety due to that, but knew that he wouldn't allow something like that to truly hold him back.

He had never acted so distracted, so static before. She couldn't help wondering if it was partly because of her. Perhaps he no longer cared for her the way he used to. Perhaps he thought less of her after seeing what Monsieur Moncharmin had tried to do.

Christine shook her head to get the thought out of her mind. She could tell by Meg's strained expression that their scene together had been a bit rocky because of Christine's lack of focus. Meg must have carried them through it, though, because the audience hadn't seemed to notice that anything was off. She rededicated herself to her performance. She knew that though the audience may not have noticed, there was at least one person who had.

She fell into position as her song began, picking the fake flowers from the set as she was supposed to. She moved about casually, yet innocently. Her mind reverted to her character and the emotions Persephone would experience in the moment. She left Christine behind in an attempt to fulfill her role.

Then, she grew nervous. Erik's voice was deeper than she recalled, or perhaps it held something different for this actual performance. But, whatever it was, it made her genuinely nervous and uncomfortable. He was the one she had thought of immediately when she noticed her own lapse in focus. She knew he would be cross, but what she was feeling now wasn't due to the consequence of her distracted performance.

Christine had her back to where Erik was meant to enter. She shivered slightly, but not due to the cool of the night air seeping into the tent. It was in his voice that she felt the chill. She remained on her mark for most of his song, but there was something that caused her to move. It wasn't part of what had been originally choreographed, but she couldn't help herself.

She peeked behind her, but he wasn't there. His voice carried around her, and she couldn't tell where it was actually coming from. She was confused at first, as that was where he was meant to be. She ventured toward the edge of the where the light touched, but couldn't see any sort of outline of Erik. She could spy Meg backstage looking on with a bewildered expression. Meg shrugged a response to Christine's questioning gaze. Nobody knew what Erik was doing.

She heard the gasps from the audience behind her, and saw Meg's expression change. Erik had emerged. Christine backed up a step from what she saw etched onto Meg's face. Raoul slid in next to Meg a moment later, finally found. However, he looked rattled and alarmed. He stared out at her, and she stared back at him. Though the production was advancing as it was supposed to, something was not right.

There was no time to find out what, as Christine was encompassed by Erik's cloak and darkness filled the arena.

xXx

When Christine's eyes adjusted, she was in a place she didn't recognize. It was quite dark, but in the small glow of light she could see that it was a mixture of tarp and wooden paneling that surrounded her.

"Christine."

She heard the voice like a whisper. She had been placed in a lounged position on the floor, her back against the wall. She must have passed out for just a moment because she couldn't recall how she had gotten into the position she was in or where she even was.

"Christine."

It was the voice again. She got carefully to her feet, not rushing the motion so as to prevent any dizziness from rising. She looked about, unable to find the source of the voice. But, the darkness fell heavily in most places, and her eyes were not well-adjusted.

"Christine," the voice came again, whispered and rather hurried.

Directly after she heard it, she saw Erik emerge as if directly out of the shadows. She didn't know where he could have been hiding, as the area they were in did not offer a lot of room to wander. But she was suddenly able to make out his outline.

"Erik?" she breathed. "What happened? Where are we?"

"Do not fear, Christine," Erik reassured. "There was no other place for us to speak alone."

"What about the production? Is it time for us to go on?"

"Not quite yet. There is much that needs to be said and very little time to do so."

Christine took a step forward. "This is about my performance, isn't it? I know I was awfully distracted. I didn't mean for it to affect my performance. I was merely concerned for Raoul."

"Raoul?" Erik spat the name with much distaste.

She looked at him. "Yes. Isn't that what you wanted to discuss? I allowed my mind to run away with me."

"Why would I ever want to discuss Raoul?" Erik hissed, causing Christine to retrace her step in alarm. "I don't ever want you to bring up his name in front of me again. My intention was to discuss us."

Christine bit her lip. "Us?" she squeaked. "Erik, what do you mean?"

"After tonight, I have taken all of the necessary arrangements for us to go away," he explained so naturally. "You needn't waste any time packing or saying your goodbyes. These people are nothing in the grand scheme of things."

"What are you talking about?" Christine asked, thoroughly confused. "I can't just go away with you, Erik. Why would I ever do such a thing?"

He held his hands out, as if offering her an unseen gift. "Because your future is not with some washed up traveling theatre. I have done so much for you, Christine, you don't even know. With your father's mediocre musical ability, you would never have even been asked to join this troupe. But, because I demanded it be so, it was."

Christine held up a hand. "I would refrain from any more negative comments about my father, if I were you Erik."

But, he seemed to either ignore or not take notice of her comment. "I honed your voice and your talent into something fit for the stage. I ensured that you would be the star every night so that the world may partake in my creation. And, when that ghastly scene with Monsieur Moncharmin occurred, well I couldn't sit idly by."

Christine's heart was pounding in her chest. With every word Erik uttered, she became more and more terrified. She couldn't believe everything he was telling her. She wondered if he even knew he was divulging this much information. As she heard it, though, all of the pieces began to arrange themselves in her head, and everything that had happened seemed to make sense.

"Erik, what did you do?" she breathed, afraid to venture any louder. She was afraid to do anything other than stand there in terror. "How did you even know about that?"

"He had to be taught some manners, Christine," Erik said. His tone held threat and warning. "He will never bother you or anyone ever again. You must know that I will not allow anyone to hurt you, Christine. You are safe with me."

Her hand traveled over her mouth, disturbed. She shook her head. "Y-You've done this before. Please tell me that you weren't behind my father's death, Erik." Tears stung her eyes, but didn't fall. She was growing frustrated and angry.

He didn't say anything. His stance changed slightly, which she took as an affirmative response. She clutched her stomach and shed a few tears, unable to keep them at bay with the sheer amount of disgust and betrayal she felt.

"How could you?" she spat between sobs. "I never asked you to do any of this!"

"Christine," Erik said, reaching out to her, but was immediately cut off.

"Don't touch me," she said, recoiling from him.

He wasn't deterred so easily. "You'll see it was all necessary in time." He came forward almost in a rush. "You will be coming with me, Christine."

Christine fell back, away from him, and through whatever obstruction was behind her. She wasn't sure if it was always meant to open as it did, or if she broke through somehow. But, she ended up on the ground in the cast area of the large tent.

After the initial impact, she looked up and saw Meg staring down at her.

"There you are! Christine, where have you been?" Meg helped Christine to her feet.

Christine glanced anxiously around, trying to spy Erik, but he was no longer there. She noted where she had fallen out of. It appeared like a mere closet or pantry of some kind, but its purpose seemed to be more sinister.

"You must get ready," Meg had continued saying. "It is almost time for you to go out there again and you aren't even dressed!"

Christine shook her head. "Meg, I can't stay!"

What are you talking about?" Meg giggled. "The show is almost over and then we can go for a long walk, if you'd like. But right now you need to get ready, or else the managers will be very upset."

"You don't understand, Meg! I can't-"

"Come along. I'll help."

Meg led Christine away to get her dressed for the second act of the production. With Meg's help, it took little time to finish preparing her look for the opening scene of the second act. Christine hardly realized what was happening. She was really no help to Meg at all. She couldn't stop thinking about what had just happened. But, she could hardly believe that it was real.

Everything Erik had said to her had to have been some kind of lie. She couldn't think of any other excuse for what he had said. She knew though, despite her heart screaming disbelief, that everything he said was true. It had been so sincere, and the look that she had barely caught in his eyes verified all of it. She was scared. She was genuinely terrified of coming face-to-face with him again.

"Meg! I told you not to go far." Philippe interrupted. "You have to go on now."

Christine turned toward him. Realizing that Meg was being called to her spot, a new fear entered Christine. She didn't want to be left alone after what had happened.

Meg rushed over to Philippe. "Finish getting her ready, Philippe? I'll go straight to the horses."

She left them for her scene.

Christine took a step toward Philippe, who stared after Meg for a bit too long. "Philippe," she said quietly.

He turned toward her. "Christine, there's…" but he didn't finish the thought.

"Please don't leave me alone," she said.

"Come on." He took her arm. "I won't lose track of either of you again."

xXx

Christine stepped into the light, reluctantly and with a concerned expression already etched onto her face. Everyone was so insistent that she proceed with the show that she couldn't possibly find a way out of it. She led the scene as she had been instructed to, slowly picking up her song. She knew that the audience would deter Erik from trying anything, but the warning was ever-present in her mind.

She had trouble focusing because of the anticipation of what was to come. She felt as if she was always glancing over her shoulder for Erik's location. She knew he would be coming out eventually, but she thought that if she lost track of him for even just a moment, she would end up in danger.

The last few notes of her solo opened up Erik's. His voice chimed in right on cue. It didn't falter or show any indication that anything had occurred. He was performing as usual. Where she had been impressed at the timing and delivery of his appearance before, she was now intimidated and uneasy. She saw his emergence from the shadows like some sort of dark omen.

She quickly exited into the back, trying not to remain there any longer than she had to. Raoul seemed to appear in front of her just as she ducked behind the curtain, and she fell into his arms.

"Raoul!" she exclaimed.

But, she didn't have to say another word. Just looking at her was enough for him to know that it had started.

"Christine," he said, "everything is under control. You must trust me."

Christine nodded. "Of course. Of course I trust you." She didn't know what he was talking about or why she was agreeing. But, she felt relief when he had said that. "I-I don't know if I can go back out there," she told him.

She peeked out at the audience. She could see all of their anxious, attentive faces. They were all so involved with the story and the music. It was surprising how a little production like theirs could garnish so much attention. And, she was the focal point of it all. She was the lead. She had never experienced such attention before in her life.

"But, the show…" she said in a trance. "I've got to finish the show, Raoul."

He pulled Christine away from the curtain. "Christine, you don't have to. We can go away right now, while he is busy."

She shook her head. "I can't, Raoul. I have to see this through."

"I can't convince you otherwise, can I?" Raoul whispered.

She shook her head again.

"I would suggest against this, Christine, but I won't let you out of my sight."

Christine left Raoul's side and wandered out on stage, as it was her cue to reenter. She acted as if in a bit of a trance, but otherwise didn't find herself to be distracted by outside forces like before. And, when Erik joined her, she didn't shy away.

She found and stared right into his eyes. There was a fire there that she had not seen before. It seemed dangerous, yet fascinating. She couldn't look away. She knew that he was coming for her and that when they met, it would be over. She maneuvered around the candelabras that were placed about to indicate the lair, her path taking her ever closer to him.

Erik reached out his hand toward her. She didn't back away, but was drawn toward it. And when she finally got within reach, his arm snaked around her and held her firmly. He dipped her as had been done before, but this time she felt a stronger tether connecting them. She was ready for the kiss. She was ready to be taken away.

"Enough!"

The interruption came completely unsuspected. There wasn't supposed to be anything of the sort happening until after the kiss was complete. But, Raoul had appeared and interrupted the scene before his cue. He looked different. Despite being in costume, he didn't look like he was playing a role.

"Don't you touch her!" Raoul shouted.

There was a pause as what was happening sunk in. Christine saw and felt Erik hesitate in his choreography. In the proximity, she noticed the edge of Erik's lips upturn into an amused smirk. He sat up and righted her slowly, before both of them turned toward Raoul.

Christine shook her head at Raoul. She didn't know where this was going, but the deviation from the script made her uneasy. He saw her, but didn't take much more notice.

"Your reign of terror stops here and now," Raoul continued. "You've had your fun, but you can't have her."

With the way he was speaking, Christine could not tell whether or not Raoul was still in character. She noted that the audience certainly seemed to think so. They had delighted expressions on their faces.

Erik chuckled. It was a noise that Christine had never heard before. It chilled her. "Do you think that you could ever stop me? You don't scare me, and you never will."

"I'm not here to try to intimidate you," Raoul told. "I'm only here for her." He motioned toward Christine.

Erik spread his arms out and paraded around in a small circle, as if showing off to the audience. He stopped next to Christine. "How are you so sure that she would prefer to go with you? Why don't we ask her." He turned toward Christine.

She realized that the attention was turned on to her—that she was being put on the spot. She felt nervous and scared. For whatever reason, she didn't know what the correct answer was in this moment. She looked between Raoul and Erik, as if trying to discover the answer.

Her mind tried to focus away from all of the attention. She recalled Raoul and everything he had done for her up until that point. She remembered all of the times she had spent with him, and everything she felt when she was with him. She loved Raoul. She could admit that now.

Then her mind turned toward Erik. He had been her tutor and her support from the start. He trained her to be who she was today. No, not who she was. He only sculpted her voice. He only saw her voice. That was what he had always wanted. He had torn down everything in his way, as well. He had admitted as much. In trying to get to her, he had taken away the one thing that she had loved most in the world: her father.

Christine stared at Erik. Slowly her expression shifted into hurt and anger and pain and sadness and fear. She backed away from him. She couldn't stand to be near him. She shook her head, and saw his smirk fade.

She stepped up to Erik. For a brief moment, she saw a flicker of hope on his face. "You're a monster," she whispered, extinguishing his hope. Tears stung her eyes and rolled down her cheek. They were only shed for the lost teacher that she had found in him.

The next part happened so quickly—too quickly. She turned away from him to head to the safety and comfort that Raoul provided. She suddenly felt a sharp tug, though, pulling her backward, and an arm wrapped around her, pinning her securely in place. Dark fabric encompassed her vision, and, looking up, she recognized Erik.

From the gasps from the crowd, she came to the conclusion that somehow she had ended up in his grasp. And, from his movements, she knew Raoul had immediately jumped into action to attempt to free her. Erik must have been holding him off somehow, though, because she remained pinned against Erik. Finally coming to, though, and getting some kind of realization of what was occurring, she struggled roughly against her captor. It took a moment or two before she actually saw some progress. She kicked and kneed him before she felt herself tumbling down with him.

They must have fallen on top of one of the decorative candelabras, for she felt something slice into her arm, and pain radiated from that area. But, it worked. They both were still, and she was freed.

Screams erupted from the audience.

"Christine!" Raoul called.

Christine inhaled sharply and propped herself up to investigate the scene better. It was true that Erik had fallen to the ground and had taken her with him. It was also true that they had run into actually a couple of the candelabras, and had taken one down with them. The flames on the candles were more than real, even if the entire production wasn't. Christine didn't know how, but as soon as those flames came in contact with the ground, the fire spread and instantly began to eat up the surrounding set.

The audience had risen in a panic, and were trying to escape the inferno as quickly as possible. A few of the people went down in the violent sea. Others appeared to be crushed by the hoard.

"Christine!" Raoul called again.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her easily up.

"Raoul," she gasped, finding relief.

"We have to get out of here. This entire place is going up in flame."

Holding her hand tightly, he navigated his way toward the back. Just as they disappeared behind the curtains, Christine took last look over her shoulder. She saw Erik engulfed in fire, flailing around desperately to extinguish it.

"Raoul!"

It was Philippe. He slid to a stop in front of Raoul and Christine. Meg was pulled alongside him. He tossed Raoul a cloth. Raoul wiped away the sweat and paint from his face so he could function better.

"Christine!" Meg exclaimed. "Are you hurt?"

Christine was happy to see her. "No. I am all right. How are you two?"

"We're getting out of here now," Philippe answered. "We've got a few things ready to go just outside, and a local address from Madame Giry."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Christine asked, confused.

Philippe wasn't waiting around to answer her questions, though. He began to lead all of them out of the burning tent. "She had gone into town for a couple of days in order to prepare. She had given Raoul and me some instructions, fearing that something like this was going to happen soon."

"But how could she know?" Meg asked. "And where is mama?"

"I haven't seen her," Raoul confessed.

"We must go now. There isn't any more time," Philippe said a bit more delicately.

Meg shook her head. "I don't think I can." She sniffled.

They burst out of the tent. Philippe led them a little ways off.

"Wait right here and don't move," he instructed. He kissed Meg hard on her cheek. "We'll be right back. Christine?"

Christine nodded, not sure where the sudden sense she possessed came from. "We'll be fine. Hurry back."

Raoul squeezed her hand, looking back at her.

"I know," Christine whispered.

The two young men hurried off. She didn't know where they were going or what they were trying to find, but she hugged Meg close.

The air was nice and cool—a good relief from the stuffiness and smoke building up inside the tent. She looked at the flames engulfing the tent, dancing against the night sky. People were still running out, but she couldn't recognize any of them belonging to Erik. Everything seemed to be much calmer just standing and waiting outside. Time seemed to work so slowly.

"Girls." The voice startled Meg and Christine, physically making them jump. But when they both spun around, they were pleased to see Madame Giry had found them.

"Mama!" Meg shouted and fell into her mother's arms. They embraced happily, and afterward, Madame Giry touched Christine's cheek.

"You are here. You are all right," Madame Giry said softly with a strange sort of smile on her face.

"Madame Giry," Christine said, surprised by the calm in her voice, "what is happening? You are too prepared for all of this."

Madame Giry ripped off a piece of fabric from her dress. "You are bleeding."

Christine glanced down at her arm. There was a cut down the length of it and blood had stained the area and where it had dripped a dark red. "I must have accidentally cut it."

"I had a feeling that this moment was going to come," Madame Giry explained as she cleaned the wound. "I had disappeared for a couple of days to visit some people in town that I knew, and to try to figure some things out. It dawned on me that _he_ was going to try something. Why else would he rewrite his entire show? Everything began to make sense, and I could see where he meant to go, as well. One might think my readings had actually begun to work, and that the universe was playing some strange joke with my clarity on the entire situation. But, whatever it was, I knew I had to get you out of here, Christine."

"You are talking about Erik, aren't you?" Christine breathed.

Madame Giry nodded. "Yes, your Monsieur Phantom has been orchestrating everything from the very beginning. I wasn't going to leave my daughter out of the escape plan, either. I didn't want her around if anything should go awry or if I should have been discovered. So right now Raoul and Philippe are on their way back to take you both to safety. I want you both to go with them and not ask any questions."

"But, mama, what about you?" Meg asked. "You are coming with us."

Before Madame Giry could answer, the two brothers returned, leading a couple of Meg's horses behind them.

"Agatha and Duchess," Meg said, recognizing her friends.

"They were the only two we could find," Philippe informed. "I'm sorry Meg."

"They are all good girls," she said, her voice straining with sadness. She patted Duchess on the neck.

"We'll help you two up," Raoul insisted.

Philippe mounted Duchess first then pulled Meg up easily behind him. Raoul ensured that everything was secured on his brother's horse before he would prepare for his own departure.

"Thank you, Madame Giry," Philippe said.

"Mama, you must come along," Meg declared.

"I can't, my love. There is something I must tend to here." Madame Giry offered a regretful smile. "Philippe will take care of you." Her eyes darted onto Philippe. He nodded and they took off a second later into the night.

Christine hugged Madame Giry. "I hardly know you, yet I can't help thanking you for this chance. I do believe that everything would have been lost if it wasn't for you."

"My only regret is that I didn't realize sooner," she replied. "If I could go back to save your father, Christine, I would not hesitate. I believe that if given more time, your father would have meant more to me than I can even say."

Tears came anew to Christine's eyes. She nodded once in understanding.

"Christine," Raoul said quietly. "It's time to go."

He had already taken his place atop Agatha, and held a hand outstretched for her. Christine took it and was pulled up in one swift motion behind Raoul.

"Are you sure you won't change your mind?" Raoul asked Madame Giry.

"I am sure. I have to be positive that it is done. You understand." She stepped back. "Now go before it is too late."

Raoul spurred the horse into motion, and they took off into the night in the direction that Philippe and Meg had gone.

Carefully Christine glanced over her shoulder and watched the fire disappear into the distance. She felt her fears growing smaller with the sight, before disappearing completely with it. Her masked tutor, and her time at _Le Spectacle des Merveilles_ , would turn into a distant memory. It would become something that she would only recall briefly whenever something she saw would spark a trace of remembrance of it. This was the final curtain for the traveling sideshow.

She turned around and wrapped her arms around Raoul. She hugged him tightly, burying her face in his back and shielding it from the sharp wind. She smiled, closing her eyes and enjoying his familiar scent. She was ready to give Raoul her all. There was nothing standing in their way anymore. Instead of looking back at what Erik could have built her into, she would stay focused ahead of her and on her future.


	22. Epilogue: Two Days Later

**Disclaimer:** I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, any of its versions, or any of the characters.

 **Title:** Le Spectacle des Merveilles

 **Summary:** Swept into the world of a traveling circus, Christine unexpectedly encounters two men who will forever change her life. One: a young man with dreams and aspirations that go beyond the limits of the circus. The second: a monster.

 **Author's Note:** This is the real final chapter! I hope everyone enjoyed this little story. I know it got a little crazy at times and interesting at other times. But, I hope overall it satisfied everyone. I wanted to put this epilogue in here almost as a bit of a cliff hanger. I always like to leave a little impact like this.

Thank you for joining me for this. I appreciated all of the feedback and interest.

 **Chapter 22 – Epilogue: Two Days Later**

Christine slowed Agatha to a trot as she came upon the smoldering ruins that had once been _Le Spectacle des Merveilles_. It had only been two days since that fateful night. She had to come face-to-face with her demon and lose her tutor all at the same time. Everything she had known had been turned around, but luckily she had Raoul. He had taken her away without any sort of hesitation. He had ensured that she was safe from any sort of danger.

They had been staying in a small apartment in the nearby town with the contact Madame Giry had given them, as well as Philippe and Meg. It was clear that they were already starting to overstay their welcome, so they would all have to find a new place to settle soon enough.

The horse came to a stop, and Christine dismounted. Most of the area appeared untouched by the flames. The main tent, or what was left of it, was the reminder of what had occurred that night. The fire had spread a little to a couple of the smaller tents and closest train cars, as well. But, those were not nearly as damaged as where the fire had begun.

Christine took her time wandering about and poking around in a few places. She didn't see any other person in the area. The managers must have realized that there was no salvaging the show after the fire. It looks like they may have taken a few things before leaving the scene. She couldn't imagine anyone else would have stuck around very long after that.

Raoul had been quite reluctant to let Christine return on her own. She somehow managed to convince him, though. She was supposed to find what she came there for then head back as soon as possible to meet up with Raoul, Philippe, and Meg. Raoul understood she needed this time for herself, but he wasn't about to let her come into any danger because of it. She knew that he would be rushing over here as fast as possible if she failed to show up on time.

The train car that Christine had called home had only been a little singed by the fire. She was able to easily pop the door open and enter the familiar setting. Everything was just as she had left it that night. Her clothes were still hanging up. Her cot was slightly unmade. She passed a hand over the screen that Raoul had made especially for her, though it ended up not being necessary after her father had died.

She looked over toward where she had safely stowed her father's violin case. She pulled it out and set it on the bed. She slid her hands tenderly over the top of it. This was what she had come back for. In the haste of the other night, it hadn't even occurred to her. She couldn't leave it behind, though. She was relieved that the fire hadn't reached it, and gobbled it up like it had done to everything else.

She carefully opened the lid to inspect the instrument. She gasped, though. The violin wasn't inside. She had the empty case, but not the treasure she sought.

She checked in every crevice of the train car, but to no avail. She closed up the case and, with a couple of her frocks in hand, as well as, she exited the train car. She secured the clothing in a sack attached to Aggie's saddle, while she seriously considered where the violin could be. Finishing in her task, she crossed her arms over her chest and turned around. Her eyes swept the field for any ideas. They landed on the big tent.

Christine knew that she had not brought the violin into that tent that night. She knew that there was no way it would have survived if it had been. But, something pulled at her to investigate the ruin and ash. She patted Agatha on the neck then strolled over to where the big tent had been erected.

There was a bit of a curtain still standing that she had to duck inside of. She was afraid to touch anything, as nothing appeared too stable. Most of the tent had caved in. Light streamed in through the top of the tent, which was mostly gone. There were gaping holes in much of the tarp that had managed to remain standing. The stands where the audience had been seated were unrecognizable. She, of course, could see it all in its former glory in her mind.

As she walked farther in, something in the middle of the ring caught her eye. The light hit it, as if as a spotlight. She stepped over fallen beams and avoided the particularly dirty areas. She closed the distance, though, and stopped in front of it. She gasped a little at what she found.

The violin was cushioned on some of the fallen tarp. It looked untouched, undamaged. It couldn't have somehow found its way into the center of the ring amidst all the chaos. This looked like it had been placed there after the fact. And, she could guess at who had done it.

Propped up against the violin were two train tickets. Taking a closer look at them, they appeared to be for Paris. She could try to redeem them, despite the date having passed. It was definitely an idea. She smiled with the possibility. Next to the train tickets was a mask. It wasn't the costume mask that Erik had been wearing the last time Christine had seen him. It was his usual white porcelain one. It looked up at her, knowing too much of her inner workings.

She loaded the violin into the case, closed it, and stood with the tickets in her other hand. She made her way carefully out of what was left of the tent and toward Agatha. Though she hadn't felt the same fear from before, she had intentionally left the mask behind. She didn't want to bring that into her life.

Having packed up the horse, though, she mounted and proceeded back to the town where Raoul waited for her. A smile rested on her face, for she had a future to reach for. Paris. She would take Raoul to Paris where she would try for the ultimate stage. This is precisely what Erik always had in mind for her. She knew that he was the one who had left the tickets for her, as well as her father's violin. He had somehow made it out of the fire. He lived.

She had to utilize her teachings and her talent. She couldn't let it go to waste. She would find her future on the stage. She would find her future in Paris. Not for Erik or for anyone else. She would obtain her dream just for herself.


End file.
